


The Beautiful Ones

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 76,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little down on love – after losing two potential long-term boyfriends, Michael returns to the “dating scene” with a whole new game plan. Feeling sympathetic, Brian's good intentions fall short when he tries to help Michael's “plan” become a success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v163/sonnygrl/BrianMichael%20Cover%20Art/?action=view&current=lunapic_130955956131285_2.gif)

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v163/sonnygrl/BrianMichael%20Cover%20Art/?action=view&current=TheBeautifulOnesChap1Banner.jpg)

 

“Brian...”

He didn't know why he was staring off into space, he couldn't even concentrate on much, which was why they’d skipped on Babylon, letting Woody’s be the first and final stop of the night.

“Does he even _hear_ me?”

“Who knows. His eyes have been glued to that door since we got here.”

“Maybe I should just ask if he knows we’re still here with him.”

“Don’t think it matters.”

Brian ignored the banter going over him as he stood at the corner of the pool table, pool stick being used as a leaning post for his cheek. “Are you two fairly certain _he said_ he would bother to show?”

“oh, look, Em... he suddenly realizes we’re here.”

“Brian, I told you the second I found it an’ then I let you listen to the voice-mai—”

Brian stuck out his arm, hand making a grabbing motion. “Give it to me. **_Now_**.”

Emmett shook his head. “Why? It hasn’t changed in five hours.” He spoke slow enough in order for Brian to understand how silly he was sounding. Almost like a perturbed, jealous boyfriend. “It’s an actual recording of his voice.”

“Jus’... humor me, huh?” Brian wasn’t backing down; Emmett wasn’t budging either.

“Take a fuckin’ shot, maybe I’ll rethink my response.” Emmett noticed Brian hesitate, then saw him putting down his arm to position himself with the pool stick to take his shot. “... ’member...” He reached into his pocket for his phone. “... you’re solids.”

Brian hit the cue ball into a solid-3, intentionally missing the pocket. He swiped the phone the minute Emmett set the object down on the table ledge. He opened it to repeat the same actions from before.

Emmett raised a peculiar eyebrow, glancing at Ted. “Remind me to change my password.” While Brian watched, Emmett hit two more balls, then staged his body to take a third shot. He backed up to allow Brian the space to take over when he was done being an impatient idiot.

His mouth in a permanent puckered frown, Brian closed the phone, holding the shape in the palm of his hand as he bent to take his next shot. He had let Michael’s message fill his head one more time, then began to stare across the room once he’d accidentally hit the striped-5.

Emmett and Ted decided to converse without Brian’s involvement since he was mostly shrugging and making one word replies. They were laughing and drinking, enjoying the crowded liveliness of Woody’s, never fully paying attention to what was going on elsewhere. But Brian knew, which was why he was handing Ted the pool stick, muttering “ _that little shit!_ ” as he snatched up his beer bottle and made his way out of the pool table area.

Neither Emmett nor Ted looked at one another, they eyed Brian’s retreating form in the midst of the burgeoning crowd of male flesh.

“Was it something we said?”

“nah... looks like Michael made it, and he’s not alone.”

Ted was quick to spin on one foot to see this great accomplishment. Had Michael finally been able to find that missing spine of his? “Wha—?” Though a bit stunned to see Michael with an absolutely gorgeous hottie— _hanging off Michael, not the other way around—_ Ted couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt that Michael had kept him in the dark. Glancing at Emmett told him he was equally as startled, interest piquing to learn what would happen next in this episode of the long-running “Brian and Michael Show”. It had been in re-runs for way-too long. The introduction of a new character was always great fodder for gossip and dirty scenario creations in their heads. Damn! Ted had lost sight of Brian. “What’s he doin’?”

Emmett thought Ted might be wondering what Michael had up his sleeve. He knew. He knew exactly what Michael was doing, and the plan was working almost too perfectly. “Who knows with these two...” He then noticed that he, too, had lost sight of Brian.

“I can’t see him.”

“Don’t worry...” Emmett spotted him right away, once the floor cleared a little. “What do you _think_ he’s doing?” He rolled his eyes and turned back to make his shot at the pool table. “Claimin’ what’s 'his’.”

Ted snorted, shaking his head as he went back to take over in Brian’s position in the pool game. He picked up his beer as he watched Emmett take his shot, and then another as he sank two balls in the side-right pocket and right-corner pocket.

Oh, fuck!

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Typically, as Brian would saunter his way across the floor toward Michael, he would intentionally put men in his way. For the first time in years, he wanted to avoid that step and get closer in shorter time before a new conquest showed.

As he was nearing the bar, a pair of broad shoulders and long, muscular torso blocked his view. He became a bit unsettled when he saw Michael’s hand slope down the chest, landing around the waist to tug gently on a belt loop. The subtle move bespoke of a closeness Brian was unaware of, some immediate connection had when he had been elsewhere. It didn’t feel like a simple flirtation of two guys meeting in a bar. Michael didn’t do things of that nature, not with strange men and certainly not so soon.

How long had Ben been out of the picture? A few months? Or had it accumulated enough to amount to a full year yet?

Brian wandered closer, struck dumb by the weird familiarity, the way Michael laughed and randomly reached out a hand to touch the guy— _a stranger to Brian_. It was odd to see Michael out, scoring on his own terms, or at least arriving with a better looking “date” on his arm. They both uttered the same word after awhile, and Michael did that slow-slide of his hand down the flank to the hip, pulling the pliable body into his own. Michael may not have realized what signals he had been giving off, but Brian knew. And little by little, he could feel his control vanishing about ready to punch someone, preferably the man trying to desperately horn in on Michael's rebound reflexes.

He knew he would be thought of as rude— _on many levels—_ but he really didn’t care. He’d been waiting long enough for Michael to get over Ben, having devised a plan to return to the basics, of only he and Michael. The way the world used to be between them, before all the interruptions. Those carefree bachelor days. Pushing aside the twinks grouped at Michael’s back, Brian lifted his right arm to set on Michael’s shoulders, then leaned into the familiar personal space.

“Hey, han’some... been waitin’ for you to show all night.” Brian left enough mystery to force anybody within hearing distance to question exactly what his words could mean.

The response Brian picked up from the other man was not what he had been anticipating. There was a “look” between Michael and this new stranger who seemed familiar to Michael. There was awkward silence, then they broke out in short chuckles.

“See?” Michael rolled one shoulder joint to try to knock off Brian’s stronghold of his upper body. “What did I tell you?” He unconsciously made a gesture behind him, to the right side where Brian stood.

“You got it right.” Sharp eyes gave Brian’s form, leaning precariously close to Michael’s own body, a hard once-over. “I’m impressed.” The wayward hand on the bar counter went to cover Michael’s over the dark beer bottle. “Almost word for word too.” He let out a small snort-laugh that set Brian to make his frame rigidly tight to defend himself.

Brian was only a tiny-bit uneasy by their shared laughter, like they were making fun of him, lost in a private joke. “Sorry.” He over-exaggerated his frown. “I don’t get it.”

Michael shook his head, averting his eyes from looking at Brian, but he decided not to brush off or back away to show he was becoming unsettled by Brian’s nearness. “Never mind.” His eyes flitted up to his new friend, across the way, who let out a small grin. “You had to be there.” Instead of making the moment even more uncomfortable, possibly causing both men to hate one another for no reason, Michael turned a little to motion a hand toward the high chest wall in front of him. First it was five finger tips, then it flowed easily into the full-on placement of palm to thin, worn t-shirt covering a heated muscular chest. “... Eric, this is Brian... my best friend... Brian, this is... Eric...” He took an unnatural pause, but not for anything except to glance up at Eric to gauge how he wanted to be introduced. They had never really talked about it, just slipped into conversation over the past few weeks as if they’d known each other for years.

Brian heard nothing, he only _saw_. _Saw_ the hand that lay against the chest. _Saw_ the way this **_Eric_** -person looked down at Michael’s hand on his chest then gradually raised lower-lidded eyes with a side-of-the-mouth smirk to show he didn’t much care how to be introduced. It was left up to Michael. Brian took a difficult swallow, hoping it didn’t show or made too much noise for Michael to pick up the sound.

There was only a mild nod toward one another in acknowledgment; Eric may have gestured his beer toward Brian as he went for a long sip through the bottle’s neck. Brian could detect some shield rising, could just be a bullshitter sniffing out another bullshitter.

Brian dug into his pocket, pulling out a grip of folded bills, snagged out one and slapped it on the bar. His arm was no longer around Michael’s shoulders, but he was close enough to Michael’s back to mark _his_ territory.

Michael and Eric smiled as they glanced at one another, unable to stop snickering at another “inside” joke.

“Well, uh...”

“Should I—?”

“uhm, maybe... I don’t know. You did say you noticed me first.”

“eh, before I— _sadly—_ tried to hit on you, like we’d never met before.”

“Hey... I’m used to it. I actually still find it sorta funny.”

“I do too.” Eric chuckled deeply, smoothing a hand down his own chest, then curling a thumb around a belt loop in his jeans. The simple action pulled down the loose denim, causing t-shirt and jeans to separate, exposing a nice piece of tanned flesh and the elastic hem of some very expensive underwear.

Brian would know, he owned a few pairs himself. He sighed, feigning disinterest, though he couldn’t help keeping one ear pinned in their direction while he was seething inside. “Alert me when it becomes fuckin’ hilarious.” He turned to rest both elbows on the counter.

Michael finally spun to face the bar, seeing Brian glance away with his partially wounded pride hanging on. “C’mon, Brian... it’s not a big deal.” He tried to wipe away the significance in mid-air. “Eric and I have known each other for awhile. Well, let me say, I _knew of_ him, and then...”

Quite calmly, Eric busted in on Michael’s declaration, coming across the bar in front of Michael. “—I was having a bitch of a day an’ had my eyes eventually opened. Once I began to ‘see’ Michael— _what_? wasn’t it like clockwork that we would constantly bump into each other?” Brian wasn’t too sure he liked the manner that Eric had with Michael; the manner _they—he and Michael_ _—_ would have used in almost anticipating the dialogue of their conversations. “In some capacity?”

Not even recognizing how hard Brian was staring at him, Michael turned his head to speak to Eric, completely excluding Brian. “At one point, I brushed it off because you pretended like you didn't know me, when we had really met when I was with Ben.”

Immediately, a switch turned on inside Brian. One he knew he’d felt a thousand times before, especially when Michael had these types of “special connections” with other men. This one, like Ben, was exceptionally painful because there was no denying how utterly beautiful Eric was, how fit his body had to be beneath those clothes; layers of casual t-shirts— _long and short—_ and well-worn jeans.

At least Eric was able to face Brian, leaning over Michael to try and catch the other man’s eyes. Eyes Michael had warned Eric not to get trapped in. “See, I taught Bruckner the workout he and his gym-mates use.” Eric backed up to playfully show off his trim, and fine, figure; it was less muscular now, but still athletic. “I got out of that scene quick.” He made a face of disgust that disappeared as fast as it arrived. “I started running. Did some biking and stuck mainly with anything that helped with cardio.”

“I guess it was, like— _what?_ ” Michael scrunched his brow in question toward Eric’s direction. “A few months ago, you came up to me at the gym? A _different_ gym...” He tilted his head, switching to look forward as he grabbed for his beer. “... for obvious reasons. I thought it was odd that you went ahead and introduced yourself...” Michael smirked as he drew the bottle to his mouth, winking toward Eric. “... an’ _totally_ tried to make a move on me.”

What felt even more weird for Brian was Michael’s inability to look at _him_ as he and Eric talked. What was up with _that_? His eyes, his body, his damn hands and their constant touching, seemed to be all for Eric. Fuck! Here Brian thought he was giving Michael space to get over his heartache, eventually they’d slip into their old routine and then he’d help Michael navigate back into the club scene and then...

What? What _then_? What exactly was Brian’s tired old routine going to add to Michael’s newer method of picking up new conquests? Michael was simply recycling the familiar or what he knew as being safe, comfortable. Jesus... this was such bullshit. Brian couldn’t bear to stand here and listen to this gibberish any longer. His hands gripped tightly onto the metal bar around the counter, knuckles going pure white, then red. And still _they_ went on and on, while he stood there and tortured himself with watching Michael fall in love all over again.

“... oh, shit, man... look, I told you this lifestyle change opened my eyes, and mind, to people and the situations I was getting thrown into with them, the ones I used to ignore incessantly.” Eric noticed Brian winced at the use of such a _big_ word, and in the correct context, for a dumbbell like him. He wanted to laugh but caught himself. “Not to mention my life was beginning to shift precariously into a whole lotta different directions,” He said this loud enough to spark Brian’s interest. There was a tiny lift to a lone, dark brown eyebrow.

“All of it culminating with seeing one another at the same day care center.”

And _that, right there_... _that_ comment was the exact balm Brian needed to feel a little relief, less scared of what he was witnessing. He perked up a bit, letting go of the bar to lean his pelvis against the wall of the counter. If they had kids in common, no wonder Michael and Eric bonded so quickly.

“Man...” Eric chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “... that was unreal. Kinda told me I better make use of this opportunity.” His hand went to curl about Michael’s shoulder beside him, then went to cup the nape, scratched at the hairline as he pulled Michael’s body into his own side. He liked how Michael fit snuggly into him, the perfect height to his own shoulders. He could almost rest his chin on top of Michael’s head.

Brian noticed Michael leaning into the simple one-arm embrace, feeling jealousy constrict his throat as he took a swig of cold beer.

“I am glad you called.” Michael nodded, while dipping his head low. He felt a bit guilty at how eager he had been to hear from Eric. “I didn’t think you ever would.”

“What?” Eric looked nonplussed and a bit put-off, a hand flat to his chest. “That I was running some type of ‘game’ on you when I took down your number?”

Michael shrugged with a bit of petulance and sadness. Then he started to shake his head when he decided to voice what his thoughts had conjured as an eloquent excuse to reject him. “nah, because I knew what a responsible parent you were being. You mentioned sharing custody of your kids...” He chuckled lightly, throwing his elbow into Eric's stomach. “It's not exactly screaming eligible bachelor, is it?”

Eric became quiet instantly, his eyes intensely gazing into Michael's warm brown ones, shaken by the complete understanding after being such an oblivious jackass. “... thank you...” He choked out, reminded that even though he was falling into domesticity, he could still find someone out there willing to see him as “eligible” _anything_.

Michael reached out to lay a hand on Eric's forearm, soothing the light hairs and squeezing the shape. “I already told you, it's been me that's weird, not anything you've done or haven't done.”

Eric nodded, having to avert his head and reset his mind. As much as he liked Michael and felt an attraction, he knew he couldn't pursue until he had cleaned up his life. Social sexual games couldn't be played without suffering consequences and he had enough on his plate as it was. Eric noticed Brian darting quick glances at them from the side of his eyes. “Look...” He dipped in toward Michael's ear. “... it's happening. Like you said. I think we've bored him.” He stepped back to watch the two best friends lock eyes then both look in other directions. He snickered under his breath while taking a sip of beer. “Next time I think you better spice up your story with kinky sex or something.” He took a chance that he might shake Brian into some kind of reaction other than this complacency, so he brought up his arm, setting it around Michael's shoulders, gave him a little shake and then hugged him close to peck his temple. He exaggerated the move in order to allow Brian to catch him sniffing at Michael's hair, like he was inhaling an odor to seek arousal of some sort.

Michael wasn't aware of Brian's facial expressions as he kept his chin dipped to chest. “... but this is his typical nonchalance...” He did glance up, finally, able to catch Brian staring daggers at Eric. Michael rolled his eyes and secured his own arm around Eric's trim waist, sinking deeply into the strong chest. He missed _this_ , more than anything. Not a specific _someone_ but the nearness of another warm body who responded to him in kind. It didn't have to be sexual, not often; it just had to be loving and attentive, as if he were the only man left on the planet. He hated how... being mean to Brian and setting his nerves on edge was more pleasurable than letting Brian do his usual routine of hanging off him, getting his hopes up and then gently rejecting him for riper and prettier flesh. At least Eric was still a “fresh catch”, caught up in the attraction he had felt only a few weeks ago. Michael knew he could work off that for a few more days, maybe more, to his benefit. “I fail to impress him on a daily basis.”

Brian frowned, turning around to lean back on his elbows on the bar. He didn't like being talked about over his head. “That's a lie. You _do_ keep me on my toes.” He had to play like he wasn't knocked off-kilter with Michael's soft treatment of his presence.

Michael took a second to stare at Brian, doubtful there was any truth to the comment as Brian did his typical perusal of the room. The ever-faithful wandering eye of Kinney. He instinctively held onto Eric tighter, leaning into his shape for protection and comfort. He realized this was becoming a usual reaction he'd perform, in order to push Brian out of his mind as still being some kind of option. He wished he felt comfortable enough to flaunt more sexual arousal with Eric in front of Brian, but he knew that would go too far, for both Brian and Eric. It would possibly confuse lines that had already been set in place. “Anyway... I can't help but see where it doesn't engage you into wanting to know more. I mean, if you aren't in the picture, somehow it means less.”

It was true. Brian didn't like it to be drawn out so clearly, but he couldn't deny it was exactly what he felt. What he wasn't liking was being told this in front of another person— _t_ _o him, a complete stranger_. Brian scoffed, wishing he had never walked over. “Exactly _who_ invited _whom_ tonight?” He lifted one eyebrow to Michael in question, turning a little to only lean on his left elbow, bringing his right arm across his body.

The awkward silence could've been cut with a knife. The two best friends only glanced one last time at one another before Michael went on to give his sole attention to Eric, spinning around to show Brian his back.

Eric peered over Michael's head at Brian, watching hazel eyes dart down at the floor, a finger of his right hand playing with a ring on the finger of his left. There was a smirk on the lips, but then the need to smile vanished as it finally sunk into Brian's head that Michael wanted to be left alone. He was already occupied with someone else.

It wasn't a true, outright cold-hearted rejection, but the response from Brian made it seem as if Michael had kicked him sharply in the groin, watched him fall to the floor, then kicked him one last time for good measure. It was in Eric to catch those eyes across the way, to apologize and try to say something to the effect that at some point he'd step into the bathroom; Brian could still have a chance to talk to Michael.

But Brian just laughed at himself, at the situation, curious about what Michael was trying to accomplish. He wasn't going to deny this hurt, he even realized he had nothing to bitch about since Michael had plenty of years of the same kind of sting coursing through his body. Except this time it had been the other way around. Not so nice of a feeling.

 **~~ &&** **~~ &&~~&&~~**

Brian paced around his desk, looking over the tiny stack of papers and files Cynthia had given him once he had reached his office door. He plopped everything down as he took a seat, latching hands on the edge of his desk to pull himself forward.

Cynthia sat down across from Brian’s desk and crossed her ankles to tilt her legs one direction. She had a Steno pad in her grasp, pen poised over the top sheet, ready to jot down any notes Brian would be adding to her morning tasks. She couldn’t help noticing that Brian appeared to be a little distracted. Never knowing how to approach a touchy subject without getting sniped at, it was best to lead with randomness than repetition. “oh... an’ I’ve gotten some call backs on that ‘hunt’ you had me doing last week.”

“huh?” Preoccupied with too much going on in his private life, Brian hated how inept this was making him at work, even wanting to get up in the morning to come in.

ah-ha! Cynthia knew Brian had been thinking of something else, or _someone else_. Possibly from earlier this morning or late last night. He had called ahead to say he would be in later than usual. “That _person_ you wanted me to locate, for you.” She raised one eyebrow in hopes Brian remembered the mad chase he had her begin only a few days ago.

“uh...” Brian blinked quickly, his mind wandering backward fast. “... oh yeah... uh-huh... and?” He was having a tough time recalling what he had requested of Cynthia.

Cynthia saw the steam vanishing out of Brian’s ears as he began to look deflated from whatever had upset him. He was attempting to hide frustration, either because of the task she had been given was eluding him or the fact she had actually taken him seriously and found the guy. “Well... he’s your two-thirty lunch.”

Suh-Prize!

Brian stopped his fidgeting behind his desk; he had been tossing things from one place to another with hidden anger. He brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why so late?”

“He’s flying in from Seattle.”

“Why?”

Cynthia had to laugh, hard, in one puff of air. “hmm... got me.” If Brian didn’t even remember what he had asked her to do, he didn’t deserve answers to his questions. “I told him everything you told me to say. He offered to fly out here, on his own.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Who was I to deny him? He said something about friends or some family around the area he hadn’t visited in awhile.”

“This is the right one, correct? Not some creepy asshole looking for a handout?”

“Well... being as I had updated you before the weekend, about having found three possible 'for sures’ for **_Hudson Lyle_** , two out of the three returned the messages I left. I was only able to confirm one with the questions you had me ask them. _Seattle_ Hudson is the one who’s flying out, and he had every single answer right. Plus, oddly enough, he began to speak very highly of you. Or someone bearing your name and looking like your exact twin.” Cynthia gave out a smirk, teasing Brian about having random twins running around the country whenever he couldn’t remember certain information.

“Please...” Brian promptly rolled his eyes, not believing that kind of secondhand information.

“I know.” Cynthia burst out with a loud snicker, hand to her chest. “I was equally stunned, but I’m being serious.”

Brian knew Cynthia never bullshitted him. She took too much pleasure in knocking him off his feet, watching him squirm. “What did he say about me?” He lifted his chin high, unsure whether he wanted to hear this or not. “You look repulsed.” He actually couldn’t detect anything from Cynthia’s facial expression, which angered him even more.

“I don't know. It is kind of creepy, if not suspicious. In a really odd way, you became his 'role model'.” Cynthia let out a small smile from the side of her mouth, trying to hold back snickering. “I think I could hear, almost, five or six different Kinney-isms coming out of his mouth. And I've heard them all.”

Brian was a bit bewildered how someone he'd met for a brief time, several years ago, could still be feeling an attachment to him to this day. Especially for whomever _Seattle_ Hudson was or purported to be. “But he's—”

“Exactly!” Cynthia couldn't deny the irony. At least Hudson was getting paid for the same thing Brian did for free. “I was doubtful he'd be in the same line of work you had mentioned, but he was. He has just become better at it. I mean, able to drop everything and come out here to see... _you?_ ” She made it seem like Brian wasn't too much to get excited about. She hoped he knew she was only teasing. Too many men on Liberty Avenue the Kinney name left imprints on that found him unforgettable.

Brian was rendered speechless, he kept his gaze on his desktop surface. He didn't know why he had no witty quip or decent response to let Cynthia know he wasn't a little out of sorts with her excellent investigation skills. He had never expected this task to actually work, or take shape in fruition where the real Hudson Lyle was on his way to have lunch with him. Brian sailed his hand through mid-air like a straight line Karate chop. “And you laid it all out for him? What we discussed?”

Cynthia nodded her head. “oh, yes, I certainly did. And he was even more eager to accept your offer the more he heard about the 'plan'. The chance to see you again, after so long, really interested him too. He asked if Michael would be at the restaurant as well. I told him absolutely not...” She shook her head for added emphasis. “I said the first meeting had to be with only you, get some ground rules set out and then— _maybe—_ he'd be introduced to Michael. Well, however you saw fit or whatever you both decided on.” Cynthia bit the tip of her pen, her eyes narrowing on Brian's face. “You're not upset 'bout that, are you?”

“What makes you think I'm upset?”

“Please...” Cynthia rolled her eyes, sighing heavily as she lifted her left leg to cross over her right knee, pulling her skirt hem down. “... it's just you and me. I'm gathering playing a hand in the seduction of your best friend isn't as simple as you once thought. You probably didn't really think I'd find him, did you?” Now she could see some type of guilt filtering out. “You thought I didn't think it was a good idea and would choose not to help you.”

“ _Do_ you think this is a good idea?”

“No.” Cynthia burst out with lightning speed. “But then I'm _me_ , with morals and integrity. I actually like my friends and wish to keep them. Don't know what I'd do if I was you in this predicament.”

Brian gave her that, he liked that she never pulled punches with him and told him the truth as honestly as she wanted. “You care about Michael?” He leaned forward, elbows on his desk.

“Sure. I've always enjoyed our conversations. He's always happy to see me; kisses my cheek, hugs me tight.” Cynthia gave out a tiny grin even at the mere thought. “He's a great guy. Any man would be lucky to have him in their life.”

“Tell me this... if you were _you_ , and Michael was one of your best gay friends and you knew his track record with men, you hated how no one had the balls to stick around, if he came to you with this asinine solution of just _'nothing but hot, angry sex with one night stands'_... would you as _you_ sit and do _nothing_?”

Damn. He had a good point. When Brian put the situation in that light, Brian's wacky decision really didn't seem all that... _wacky_. “Okay... no, but...” She now sat forward in her own chair. “... I wouldn't be attempting to hire a guaranteed one night stand that would— _hopefully—_ change his mind.”

Brian sat back, staring at Cynthia to be as truthful as she always could be. “Think I'm a bastard?”

“Among other things. I think you're being cruel...” She liked that Brian looked perturbed by her comment. “... not only to Michael, but to yourself.”

“I can't.” Brian already knew what Cynthia was going to say to him without her even starting. Her choice of words were heading in that direction.

“I know, I know.” Cynthia held out a hand to not have Brian be pissy with her the rest of the morning. “Heard the speech already. I do get it. But it's strange that now I feel bad for this poor chump, _Seattle_ Hudson.”

Brian snickered, shaking his head at Cynthia's quick response of emotions for a complete stranger. “He's in no way a 'chump'. He's a very costly male escort, with fringe benefits. Or whatever he terms himself these days. He knows exactly what he's getting into. He's done this hundreds of times, over the years, since I saw him last. Nothing new or exciting for him.”

“You forgot...” Cynthia saw Brian raise both eyebrows in question. “... this is Michael we're talking about.”

“What?” Brian looked perplexed to what Cynthia meant, but he knew, which was what scared him. If he hadn't seen Michael the other night at Woody's with Eric then he never would've assumed he could bounce back that quickly from his incessant need to change his sexual lifestyle from domesticated boredom to detonative promiscuity. “What does that mean?”

“Never mind.” Cynthia swiped her hand in the air, telling Brian to forget what she just said. They could go back to actual work now.

“No. C'mon, tell me.”

“No.” Cynthia pointed to Brian's desk with her pen, motioning to the top file. “Open that file. Read the contract inside and sign it. I'll get it Fed-Ex'd to Charles by the end of the day.”

Brian kept the confusion on his face until the door of his office closed with Cynthia on the other side. He pushed back his chair to stand and gruffly slide out of his jacket. He wandered back to his executive washroom, moving to the sink bowl to douse his face with cold water. He didn't know why he was on edge, ready to punch someone hard if they looked at him wrong.

Well, that was partly a lie. Ever since Michael told him of his new plan of attack with men, Brian tried hard to keep his opinion to himself, thinking Michael was _all talk, no action_. A few times already had Brian's head spinning, and his heart racing, to know that Michael could have been at his most honest, ever.

How many times had Brian wished for _this_ Michael to emerge? For them to stick with being bachelors together, while having other men— _random quantities of men—_ and still being happy, alone? Oh, way-too many times to count. Now that Michael had tried and failed his own way, he seemed prepared to finally succumb to what Brian had been doing for years. And now Brian was scared, fearful. He would almost beg for another “David” or “Ben” to come sweep Michael off his feet and keep him safely tucked away.

The only other option he could see, capable of dealing with Michael's new pursuits, was to have a direct hand in the choosing. Be able to manipulate and command the perfect “one night stand” directly into Michael's path, in control from the very second their eyes met...

Christ! What a terrible day to quit smoking.

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**


	2. Chapter 2

  
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Brian had thought to arrive at the lunch meeting a little early so he could look over this man, _Seattle_ Hudson— _well, somewhat of a complete stranger—_ he was about to sick on Michael. But as luck would have it, apparently better luck was for the other guy, not Brian. He was extremely late, and Brian was never late to a business meeting, though this meeting was far from his usual.

He tried to shake off the rain as best he could; his spur-of-the-moment purchase of a compact umbrella was proving to be as cheaply constructed as the _going-'til-it's-gone_ sale at the department store. He wished Michael still worked at The Big Q so he could've picked the same crappy brand for free. The taxi dropped him off at the green awning, thankfully. Brian could at least make some semblance of compactness to the soaked umbrella or put it out of its misery in a trash bin. From where he chose to stand as he shook out the material, and then attempted to unwrap the moist fabric around itself with the tiny snap-strap, he didn't realize he was under one of the bad leaking spots of the awning. Not until the doorman/host and a swift breeze let him be aware of his follies.

The doorman came out of a small revolving door to profusely apologize to Brian and attempted to get him safely inside, where it was warm and dry. The man had a good supply of towels next to his podium, handing one off to Brian. “Dining in or bar, sir?”

“uh, actually... I'm meeting my party here. I'm running late.”

“Name, sir?”

“Mine?”

“Is that the name of the reservation?”

“No. _Lyle_. Or, uhm... _Hudson_.” Brian rolled his eyes at what a bumbling idiot he was. “ _Hudson Lyle_ , is the name.” He had tried to limit the amount of things he carried with him. He had started out empty-handed, now he had a dripping-wet umbrella and a soaked towel. He exchanged the moist terry cloth for a dryer one. “Sorry, I jus'...” Brian felt he needed to explain why he was taking another towel.

“ahh, it's okay.” The doorman brushed off Brian's need to explain his actions. “I just had these brought out to me 'bout an hour ago. Most have been refusing, choosing to dry off on their own.”

“Thanks, though.” Brian gave off a side smirk. “I haven't had much good luck today.”

“Well, maybe it's time for a change in your favor.” The doorman took off his heavy wool, full-length jacket and military-brimmed cap, to easily transform into the Host of the restaurant. “Follow me, sir. Your party's been seated already.”

Brian heaved a huge sigh and complied by following the Host through the packed lunch crowd. He'd never heard of this place, never knew it was _this_ popular. Of course, being attached to a hotel chain almost hid it from existence to Pittsburgh residents. Brian had to admit that being led to wherever he was going became worrisome. The amount of solo male diners, and their overall appearances, didn't bode well for his “plan” working. He was brought to a corner table with four empty seats. One chair did appear to be occupied, but there wasn't anyone around.

“uh...” Brian thought to say something as a second chair was pulled out and a menu set down on a place setting. He wanted to ask where Hudson Lyle was, but found his own eyes trailing across the room toward a set of windows overlooking the street. At the glass with back turned to the room, stood a hulking mass of straining muscles in a suit. Unlike Bruckner, the man was taller, had more of a swimmer's build. But every square inch of him pulled shirt and trousers taut over his well-toned body. The action of lifting one arm to talk on the cell phone stretched and flexed the expensive material to its limits. As the man talked on and on, he continued to rub over his closely shaved head, causing a different rippling effect down his trim form.

Brian sat down, having to grab the cushion under him to make sure he didn't miss his target. He closed his mouth when he realized his jaw had gone slack as some of the wandering female eyes had done. Apparently, Lyle was an equal-opportunity escort, but he preferred men for the sex. As Lyle turned in profile, watching the frenzied activity outside, he brought up his free hand to wipe away the fog on the glass, then steamed the surface again with hot breath and started to doodle. For a second, Brian was mesmerized, only because this wasn't the mannerism of any professional sex worker he'd ever known. The action gave the young man a bit of whimsy, like, though he had chosen a career path that left a bad taste in society's mouth, he had never allowed it to change him.

“ ** _... all right... yeah, yup..._** ” Hudson Lyle spun from the window casing to eye Brian at the table. He smirked appropriately in response to the lift of Brian's dark brown eyebrow, like an informal greeting of _“how you doing?”_. “ ** _I've gotta get going. Remember to hide those pills in the canned food and bathe her once a week. Twice, if need be._** ” He chuckled deeply as he moved away from the windows, smoothing a hand down his chest. He tugged on the vest of his suit as he'd foregone his suit jacket and tie earlier, leaving the top two buttons of the suit shirt undone and the stylishly slimming vest on. His hand stopped at the belted waistband and gave a good yank before he retook his chair and put down his cell phone near his silverware.

Brian couldn't help but watch the tightening of the wool material over the hidden groin, which showed a decently sized bulge underneath when flaccid. Jesus... why had he looked? This was supposed to be for Michael's benefit, not his own. Now that he was seeing Hudson Lyle for himself, it was going to be a lot tougher to keep that in mind, and keep his own body in check.

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Michael pushed the dial on his treadmill to incline at a steeper rate. He had been noticing a few random eyes trying to catch him from the opposite side of the room, using the gym equipment facing the row of treadmills. It seemed as if Emmett and Ted, on either side of him, had the same idea.

Eric had noticed Michael entering the gym, acknowledged him, but had to stick to doing his job for the day and kept himself from fraternizing with patrons. He might be blamed for converting them to his side, where a personal trainer at home was better than an annual gym fee, or he could try to promote his own gyms, which hadn't made it out Pittsburgh's way quite yet. He waited until he was allowed to take a break, then he sauntered up behind the trio of best friends. His keen eyesight not only picked up the swift changes to their machines, but the extra exertion their bodies were putting forth. It wasn't until he followed where their gazes went that he figured out why they had shifted their types of exercises. Eric shook his head, swiping a hand over his face as he walked in between Ted and Michael's machines.

With a gentle hand on Michael's back, he reset the treadmill to an incline Michael wasn't heaving and sweating profusely over. Eric did the same for Ted, except he placed a hand on Ted's fingers, tight on the handlebar in front of him. He could tell that Emmett was the only one out of the three who could actually handle the steeper incline, so he left him alone. He clapped his hands together to have them all focus their attention on him, and nowhere— _on no one—_ else, as he stepped out from between the treadmills and faced them.

“Look at **me**! Only **me**!” Eric smirked because every single one of them, plus a few onlookers, were startled by his drill sergeant tone. “I want **all** of you to promise me to **never** adjust your workouts to score some ass.” He spared a weak glance over his shoulders toward the offending parties who seemed to find the trio being caught nearly hilarious. “Certainly for 'asses' you know won't call you the next day.”

Ted slowed his walk to the cool down period. “I thought that was why we do this to ourselves in the first place.”

“We shouldn't be thinkin' of them at all. Right, coach?” Emmett teased Eric, sending him a flirtatious wink.

Eric chuckled when he heard Ted grumble about “ _ass kissing_ ” and “ _coach's pet_ ”. “Right, Em.” He folded his arms over his chest, tucking his hands away. “I'll only be here for a short time before I can't watch you guys every day, to make sure you're exercising properly for your weight/height range. Keep you in check.” Eric shook his head, looking over them as he glanced about the workout room. “I wish I was selfish enough to recommend myself as your trainer or my own— _better equipped—_ gyms, but I promised the owner here I wouldn't solicit. I can only encourage.”

Michael smiled widely as he cooled down, wiping the towel down his sweat-drenched face as he left the material around his neck. “We've appreciated everything, Eric. Really. Without you here, we wouldn't be as truly fit, and healthy, as we all are.”

“Even Teddy.” Emmett gestured with his head as he lowered his incline to cool down mode.

“Fuck you, Honeycutt.”

“Been there. Done that.”

Eric snickered lightly as he looked over the three perspiring faces before him. “Do you guys have plans for dinner?”

“uh... yeah.” Emmett raised both eyebrows.

“Sure do. We gave up lunch for this.” Ted admitted rather openly, which earned him a glare from Emmett and a swat from Michael. “Ow! What!? I didn't know it was a secret.”

Emmett rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “What part of _'don't mention that we're here skipping lunch to Eric'_ wasn't clear?”

Eric covered both hands over his face. “Christ! You guys...” He couldn't believe he was younger, and more sensible, than these older men. “... your overall mental, emotional and physical conditions should **never** be waved for a guy's number! I am buying you three a round of fruit smoothies...” Emmett gave him a cute golf-clap of excitement. “... and then, I'm treating you all to a real god-damn fuckin' lunch with food!” He tried to exit without looking like a drama queen, but that was tough for some men with passionate, frenzied emotions. Eric made sure, as he went back to the main gym, that he passed the pack of flirting gym bunnies that had been attracting everyone's eyes.

He stared them down with a bit of intimidation as he glanced over their choices of weights, then over their bodies and began to smirk wildly as if he was laughing at them. He wanted it to appear as if he was poking fun. The irony was that they were doing the pedestrian mistake most newbie body builders committed; they thought more weight meant more massive muscles. In Eric's line of work, he had seen better, long-lasting results with repetition with lower weights, no increase in the weights themselves. Far be it from him to save them from an early death, from rough strain on their heart muscles. This wasn't his gym and these weren't his clients. He bit his bottom lip as he wandered away to find the gym's manager.

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian strolled out of the shower, securing the towel about his waist. He walked to the mirror above the marbled sink and swiped a hand over the foggy reflection. He tried to stare at himself without the urge to look away. Weird, because he could recall the days when he'd gaze longingly at his appearance and find nuances in his features to admire and praise. Instead, he could hardly bear to take in his own image, either out of sheer boredom or pure disgust.

He opened the door to step out into the master bedroom suite and noticed that clothes had been laid out for him to wear. At the end of the King-sized bed frame was a cushioned bench that held an open suitcase. Brian knew he had taken off his soaked suit, carefully placing it somewhere in the room, but he couldn't locate it. He felt trapped, set up, and a bit vulnerable. Not to mention he was, literally, nude under the towel he was wearing.

He didn't like this feeling. He had only felt this twice before; the first time was to teach him who not to trust, the second time was letting him know exactly who he could trust. Brian was still unsure about Hudson Lyle. The young man was a walking/talking contradiction with a body Brian wanted to worship, then fuck the ever-loving shit out of. But he kept thinking of Michael, and that urge suddenly dissipated.

 **Do as I say, not as I do.**

It was different now that Michael wanted sex every night. Just not with him. It hurt, to be honest. And Brian struggled with that reality daily.

Brian didn't know if he liked someone else setting clothing out for him. He was slowly perusing the inside of the suitcase when he caught sight of a shadowy figure in the doorway, leaning against the door molding. He loosely folded his arms over his stomach, stepping back a little. Brian had no idea to Hudson's true intentions in being kind with an offer to come to his hotel suite to “ _relax and dry off_ ”. Brian wasn't even sure why he accepted, if his own intentions weren't toward anything sexual.

Hudson walked over the threshold as he showed the two short glasses of Scotch in his hand. He offered one out to Brian. “By all means, the suitcase is yours if you happen to find out that everything fits. Slowly, but surely, all my own luggage is making its way back to me.” He made a motion over his shoulder when Brian took the offered glass. “While you were in the shower, they brought up two of my bags.” Hudson pulled at the loose track pants and thin cotton tank-t he had changed into. Not to mention he had gone barefoot and taken off most of his flashy jewelry. What remained was a gold medallion of a saint on a slim chain around his neck and resting on his collarbone and a thin strap of leather around a wrist with something etched on the surface, like a personal mantra in another language. There was a faint odor of being freshly showered as well, with the heavy musk of expensive cologne wafting over. It felt like both of them were left raw and open, bare and a bit vulnerable. “Don't worry that anyone will miss the clothes. Apparently, the bag was left in the hotel's Lost and Found bin and— _I suppose_ —the desk clerk felt empathy for me, giving me the bag to use.”

Brian didn't know why Hudson sat down on the mattress and began to stretch out his legs to lay against the pillows on the headboard. Like he expected Brian to be fine with undressing in front of him. “It explains why your suit fit like a second skin.”

Hudson chuckled, taking a sip of Scotch as he set the glass on his tummy. “mmm... it did, didn't it? Made quite an impression?” He lifted one eyebrow in a quandary.

“I figured that...” Brian shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, grabbing at his elbows. “... well, because of what you do, isn't it almost like selling the goods upfront?” He started back with digging around for other clothes, pausing when he realized how rude that had sounded. Brian was barking before he got bit.

But Hudson took the comment in stride. “I don't know. You're a bit different. I already know you, so it isn't like we're meeting for the first time.” He narrowed his eyes on Brian. “But I do have to mention that I don't think you were expecting me to look exactly how I look.” Hudson did that nervous twitch thing again where he rubbed backward over his shaved head. “You're my client, but not my _actual_ client.” He shrugged one shoulder loosely. “I wanted to make a good impression without having to add any sexuality to the meeting. If I had my own suit then it would've gone less over like I was making an outright pass at you.” He swallowed the rest of his drink down, swung his legs off the bed to stand and put the glass on the nightstand. When he straightened, he pulled down the bunched hem of his tank-t. “... an' yet, here I am, creepin' you out by watchin' you dress.” Hudson shook his head at his own rudeness. “Just come out when you're finally done an' we'll talk.”

Brian watched the paneling shut as Hudson left the room. He had a curious lift to one eyebrow because the intuition on that young man was of someone older with more experience. He kind of liked knowing Hudson Lyle might be an old soul, some kind of throwback to an old way of life long passed. Someone who had class and respect for others, who had manners and might actually use “please” and “thank you”. It was weird to feel a jolt of pride that somebody from his own past, who had admired him for years growing up, saw him as a role model. That he would actually mature into not being such an a-hole, like Brian Kinney. It spoke well of Gus' own fate, with Brian as a father.

Whomever had owned the suitcase previously had been someone who planned ahead. There wasn't any space sparred for emptiness and every spot taken had order and purpose. The guy had obviously been anal, and not in the “I'm a homo”-kind of way. The oddest things were rolled into compact packages. Brian actually found a cashmere sweater and a pair of dark brown Khakis. The briefs were a little conservative but they were better than going commando. He found an expensive pair of silk-blend socks and a decent pair of loafers that looked brand new. Brian wandered out of the bedroom with the shoes dangling from two fingers, off one hand, as he carried the two empty glasses in the other hand. He was going to let his hair air dry at this point. Hudson had already seen him at his worst, dry and clean wasn't going to ruin his reputation.

When he entered the main room of the suite, Brian didn't spot Hudson immediately. He did catch sight of the two pieces of matching luggage now sitting in the middle of the floor. Brian set the shoes down on the coffee table, padding on socked feet to the makeshift bar on a small counter and cabinetry. As he was pouring himself more alcohol, this time of his own choosing, Brian could hear the rustling of paper behind him.

“Have you read _this_?” Hudson was leaning on the window's casing, looking out over the rainy scene of the cityscape. He was flipping through several pages of an object in his hand.

“What?” Brian spun around, remaining as close to the bar, and as far from Hudson, as he could. He narrowed his eyes to what was in Hudson's hand, what looked to be one of Kinnetic's typical business report folders.

“The dossier on your— _Michael_.” Hudson turned through a few more pages as he closed the folder. “Your assistant, Cynthia, FedEx-ed this to me yesterday. I've read it cover to cover on my way here, and on the flight over. I have to say...” He raised one eyebrow in curiosity and confusion. “... it's an interesting, rather achingly thorough read and a little—”

“What? A little _what_?” Brian was quick to defend Michael.

“Don't worry.” Hudson put a palm out to calm Brian down. “She didn't say too much to get me sympathetic, but I'm no dummy.” He pushed off the casing to wander over the carpeted floor. “I can read between the lines.” Hudson was passing by Brian in order to grab for a water bottle in the tiny fridge, below the bar counter.

“oh? And what does it say, exactly?” Brian had to admit to himself he never even thought Cynthia would write up some kind of personal background history about Michael. He wondered if he was anywhere amidst the stories, or if it over-shot those pieces of Michael's life and simply stuck with Michael on his lonesome.

Hudson held out the report for Brian to take, but when Brian left it alone, he set the folder down on the counter surface, and spun to make his way to the couch; he curled up in the corner cushion with his legs tucked under him. “Afraid of what it says or what it _doesn't_ say?”

Brian rolled his eyes and worked his lips to purse hard; he moved swiftly to take the chair adjacent to the couch, crossing one leg over a knee and locking his foot around a coffee table leg. “Cynthia has a big mouth.” He had to chuckle lightly at some memories of Cynthia overstepping boundaries a time or two. He wouldn't put it past her to place him in a bind with Hudson. “Knows just how much to tell to give enough away to allow you to figure things out on your own.” Brian took a huge gulp of his drink.

“She knows him well.” Hudson made a faraway gesture to the folder. “That's rather obvious.” He tilted his head, lifting a lone eyebrow with some humor. “Too bad he's gay or I think she'd marry him.”

That comment caused Brian to snort-laugh a bit. “Yeah, well...” He moved his head from side to side, rolling one shoulder at a time. “... I think she actually prefers her men that way. So she can lament about being a spinster, non-sex-having thirty-something.”

This time it was Hudson's turn to laugh out loud. “She seems to think highly of you. A little bit tight-lipped too.” He rolled his neck, trying not to find that point more interesting to converse over. He had to remember he was here for a job, not here to be best friends with Brian Kinney. “Did his husband really just up and leave him like that?” Hudson twisted off the cap of the water, taking a long drink.

Brian was a bit stunned that Cynthia may have gone into some depth about that fact. Maybe because Hudson would be coming into the cusp of Bruckner's departure, Cynthia would want to bring him up to speed. Brian wondered if Cynthia knew anything that he didn't know, like Michael would've confided more in her because she was a woman and might understand better than Brian would have. Or any of his other friends for that matter. “Yes. Unfortunately.” He used the last word because he had truly felt worse for Michael, even though he knew the sham of a marriage would never last. Plus, Brian didn't want to appear too crass or rude over Michael, to give Hudson any ideas about his feelings on Michael's ex-spouse.

“Or fortunately.” Hudson thought to supply as he had read in between the lines to some of what he'd read about Michael Charles Novotny, and his best friend sitting before him.

“huh?” Brian furrowed his brow in perplexity.

“C'mon...” Hudson unfolded his legs, placing them in front of him on the length of the cushion squares, crossing at the ankles. “... twenty years of a long-term friendship and not once have you thought about it?”

“About _what_?”

“uh, yeah... oh-kayyy...” Hudson would kill the issue at this time, but he would need to know soon. He didn't need Brian interfering at some point and ruining the whole plan he would spend a lot of time putting into place. “I need to know as much as possible, if I'm to play this role off right.”

Brian kept turning his head to glance over his shoulder, eying the report folder that was somewhere behind him, perched precariously off the counter top. He put down his leg and sat forward to set down his glass on the surface of the coffee table. He put a fist to his mouth, clearing his throat. “People always assume because Michael's a bit child-like, and sometimes naïve, that he's simple minded.” Elbows on his legs, Brian folded his fingers together to form a bond that he used as one as he spoke. “He's not. He's very sharp.”

Hudson nodded his head in understanding. He realized that Brian could give him better, raw insights into Michael that could prove useful. “He picks up cues?”

“huh?” Brian had been staring off in another direction.

“Little nuances. Like what a person says or how they react.” Hudson rolled his hand in the air to make his point. “He looks for patterns, familiarity.” It sounded like Michael could be an undiagnosed savant of some kind; not so bright in the head but a great reader of the human form, and human emotions and feelings.

“oh, yeah... something like that.” Brian waved the thought away as if to move on. “It might take him longer, but he will eventually get it.”

“Not all of us are born smart-asses.” Hudson meant to use smart-alacks, but he knew he'd get a reaction if he said a different word.

“Touché.” Brian raised his glass to Hudson's jab at him, or them.

Hudson decided that lounging like he was gave him an air of youthfulness and inexperience that Brian would misconstrue. He sat up, with feet planted on the carpeting. He leaned forward with elbows on his thighs, much like Brian was doing now, using his hands as he talked to reassure. “Look, Michael will be safe with me.” He motioned to himself, palm flat to his chest. Then he used his index finger to point around himself. “I assess a lot about a room, the people in it: the mood, the atmosphere, everyone's body language. It's all key to knowing how to protect myself in any weird environment with a typical client.”

Brian smirked knowingly as he took another drink. “He's not.”

“hmm?” Hudson found Brian's tone a little disconcerting, as if he was attempting to warn Hudson off taking the job offer.

“Michael.” Brian swallowed the last of his whiskey, dropping one loafer at a time to the floor. “He probably won't feel like a usual client once you get to know him, face to face.” He worked the right foot into one shoe, before doing the other.

“Well, no. That's a given.” Hudson had expected as such. He was going to take the dossier's information as a simple sculpture, not who Michael actually was as a person. “Guys like Michael don't need escorts.” He sniffled out a snort, shaking his head. “From his pictures, he's not a bad lookin' guy. He's... boy-next-door.” Hudson swished his hand from side to side, not even sure if that description was quite accurate. “Which can be hot, if you play the moment right.”

“Pictures?” Brian was momentarily stunned. He wasn't really prepared for how much effort Cynthia had put forth for this plan to work in his favor. Even though he kept wanting to second guess the decision. He felt as if Hudson was giving him enough time to change his mind, back out. “Cynthia sent more than one?”

Hudson stood up from the couch, making his way back to the bar. “I did think she went a bit overboard, but... I liked it.” He opened to the exact pages where there was an open sleeve that held some 8x10s and a glossy set of digital photos looking to have been taken at a get-together or a party where Michael was very relaxed and having fun— _smiling broadly at least—_ as if he was brimming with happiness. Hudson left the file open to that exact page, setting it on the coffee table in front of Brian. “It's given me a 'sense' of the real Michael off the written page.”

Brian lifted up one side of his mouth as he stared down at some of the images peeking out at him. It looked as if Cynthia had dug through every nook and cranny of his office space to find these little known treasures. “Meeting him in person may come as a shock to you.” He pushed the folder away from him with the nail-bed of one single digit, not wishing to see his best friend narrowed down to a twelve page dossier.

“oh? Why?” Hudson had to let out a choked laugh, not sure how he should take that comment. Was it a warning or a threat?

Brian sat back against the chair again, this time an ankle over a knee. He grabbed for the ankle to rub at it. “Looking at him, you'd expect exactly what you think you've always seen in other men.” He raised his narrowing hazel gaze onto Hudson's smiling face across the room. “He'll make you think twice the next time.”

“Again...” Hudson sat on the arm rest of the other chair in the room, folding his arms as he gestured a hand toward Brian before he tucked it away. “... why are you _not_ on this like the world is about to end?”

Brian hid a smile behind his hand as he bent his elbow to rest the arm on the chair arm-rest and place his head on the hand. “Because—” He averted his eyes before Hudson caught sight of the emotion brewing inside.

“Okay, _because_ —?”

“I may have missed my opportunity.”

“Seriously? You know _this_ for a fact?”

Brian cleared his throat, trying not to slouch in this overstuffed chair he was in. “He said he was tired of waiting. He was tired of feeling a certain way and...” He kept his eyes downcast as he recalled every word Michael had uttered to him at that moment. “... never quite getting it right.”

“To _you_? He said _this_ about _you_ to _your face_?” Hudson had a feeling, deep down inside, that Brian was reading into Michael's words, which was probably something he did almost naturally.

“No, it wasn't to me, specifically, but it may as well have been. He generalized the wording to mean all men— _the ones in his life who have hurt him_.” Brian shrugged one shoulder, sighing lightly as he directed his gaze back to Hudson's face. “I figured I was there first, and I do share some of that blame.”

“ahh... so he's loved you since all that time ago.” Hudson nodded his head as he was beginning to understand things a little clearer. He was curious why Brian went instantly quiet, contemplative. “He specifically mentioned something about reciprocated feelings and immediately you thought it meant you too?”

Brian shrugged loosely with both shoulders, already feeling like this meeting was over, time to go back to the office. “I don't know what he feels anymore. I simply know that this— _rash—_ decision he's made just isn't 'him'.” He shook his head, and frowned, to emphasize his point. “It's not who he is now.”

Hudson looked intensely toward Brian, catching body cues that told him a different story. “Is it just because he made this choice on his own or that he may actually enjoy a bit of excessive debauchery for a few months?” He ended the question with a calm, easy smile.

Brian returned the smile, with a change to his body language that went stiff and emotionless. “I don't mind it at all, actually, but...”

“But— _you_ ** _do_**.” Hudson threw his hands upward, wishing Brian would say what he meant and stopped hiding behind words and actions. Poor Michael. “Admit it. If you had the same courage and conviction you do for this plan, you'd offer yourself up for the sacrifice.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a positive response from Brian. He got nothing but a cold chill.

“Maybe.” Brian bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from blurting out a worse truth.

“So, why don't you?”

“I don't know.”

“I think you do, Brian.”

“oh, please...” Brian pulled at his sweater collar and began to move like he'd stand shortly. “... enlighten me with your wisdom.”

“I think you're afraid.” There. Hudson said it. Probably a word Brian never heard from someone else, only in his own head. “You're afraid of what you'll want if you _did_ sacrifice yourself to him. That you wouldn't want this to be a one night stand. Or an occasional anonymous moment of sex. Not even just as a casual fuck buddy.”

“All right, you can stop now.” Brian rose to his feet, pushing out of the chair.

Hudson stood as well, finding out he was still taller than Brian, even in bare feet. “I think you have feelings for Michael that you've never addressed.” He was willing to follow Brian to the door of his suite to exit, but he'd hound him on the path there. “At least not with him, face to face.”

Brian was about to turn and walk away, not even say one more word, but then he paused. He spun to glance over his shoulder, wrinkling his brow in bewilderment. “How do you even know that for a fact?”

“Well, I'm here, aren't I?” Hudson gestured to himself with both hands, then V-ed them down the front of his body to stand with feet planted firmly apart, like a guard at his own room entrance. “On your specific request. You hired me to be a 'sure thing'.” Brian made it to the door, knob turned and paneling open on its spring-action. Hudson grabbed for the shape of the door, hanging off the structure toward Brian. “If I was just some random trick on the street, it might seem cold and calculated, but this actually needed some thought and concern. Like you wanted to make sure he wouldn't be hurt in the long run, just a bit... off-kilter. Like always.”

“Jesus... maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.”

Hudson focused his eyes on Brian from the side, concentrating on the movement of his hands as he wrung them with some sense of heightened nerves and worry. He knew he had hit the nail on the head this time. He went into the tiny closet to pull out the heavy coat of Brian's to hand over to him. “I'll bring you your suit back once it's done in the hotel dry cleaning service.”

“oh, is that where they ended up?” Brian slipped his arms through the sleeves, liking that at least one thing on his body was his own. He bent his head to fix his collar. “I'll have Cynthia call you with the next appointment date.”

“Fine.” Hudson crossed his arms at his back as he leaned on the door, keeping it wide open.

Brian really didn't have anything to use as a last word. It was strange. “Bring the bill for the suit when we meet next.”

Hudson simply stared Brian down, a tiny shake to his head. “My treat. If it's on my hotel charge, it's mine to deal with.”

Brian simply gave him a nod in leaving as he headed down the hall and toward the bay of elevators.

Hudson watched Brian Kinney until he boarded the elevator. Not once did he turn back to look at him, which was weird. It wasn't like he was expecting a fast, close friendship from this meeting, but the guy just had no time to give anyone else a moment of human decency.

What the hell had happened to change Brian so drastically, from the last time he had seen him, all those years ago? Hudson hated that he cared enough to be concerned, though Brian certainly wasn't. It boggled his mind how someone like Michael Novotny could stand to be within breathing distance of someone like Brian Kinney.

  
**~~ &&~~&&~~... tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**   



	3. Chapter 3

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v163/sonnygrl/BrianMichael%20Cover%20Art/?action=view&current=TheBeautifulOnesChap3Banner.jpg)   


 

The three friends were talking across the table, seated in a booth as usual, as Eric wandered over to the register to pay the bill and pick up a To-Go bag of lemon bars. He wondered what they were going on about as they appeared to be whispering to, and elbowing, each other while looking about the diner. Oddly, they were including Eric as he noticed they kept trying to secretly gesture toward him. When he made it back to the booth, counting out the leftover change to store in his wallet and pocket, he sat down with a sigh.

“Did I miss something important?” Eric looked to Michael, simply because he was the only one he could trust to let him know the absolute truth about whatever had gone on that he didn't understand fully.

 **“** **No.”**   
**“** **... no, no, no...”**   
**“** **oh, no.”**

The three friends were quick to deny what they had clearly been up to, but then they had never been as closely scrutinized as they were at this point to someone who may actually care what they were about, why they acted so weird around most men.

Sliding back into the bench seat, Eric lifted his backside off the cushion, from the right, so he could put away his wallet. “Are you sure?” He gazed across at Ted and Emmett, their guilty faces spoke volumes. Then he turned slightly to glance at Michael, who was less exceptional at holding back a lie. “I saw you staring at me, then gesturing like I was part of your topic.”

Michael gave a cursory glance to Ted and Emmett for their blatant rudeness, then broke out with an explanation, “It's stupid, Eric. It's, like, all the dumb things you do in high school when you don't fit into certain cliques.”

“I'm being judged by my looks?” Eric looked about the table, watching even more guilt cross over their averted eyes and faces.

Emmett cleared his throat and chimed in, feeling a little rude. “We're debating whether it's fair to say you're a **TBO** , when— _clearly_ —here you sit with us lowly folk.”

“Among the meek and ordinary.” Ted blurted out with just a bit of a sting.

Michael barked out but in a muffled tone as to assuage Ted of lacing all of his words with an assumption that no man would every find him relationship material again, especially someone like Eric, “Shut up, Ted.”

Eric tilted his head in curiosity. He had never heard that particular set of initials before. “ **TBO**? Is that some type of 'gay code' I'm not aware of?”

Michael went on to explain as it seemed Eric was being a good sport about their typical teasing of men, only when it was between themselves. “Not so much a code as a private shorthand we use from time to time.”

“oh. Interesting.” Eric really was interested, not just placating the other men. He'd been out of the dating scene for seven years. It wasn't like he'd jumped back on the horse and knew how to ride again; he knew, at best, he was lucky if he even was able to get a decent night of sex out of a new guy he met. “Is it a way you can communicate without other men knowing?” Eric had to admit that he could use a bit of “help” when it came to this kind of stuff, having been away for much too long and a little rusty.

Michael glanced across at Emmett and Ted, who seemed to be leaving it up to him to carry the whole of the explanation. “Yeah, something like that.”

Emmett began to use his hands when he talked. “It helps us in moments of crisis, allows us to seek out men in clubs and bars we wouldn't normally pursue.”

“Or breathe the same air space with,” Ted muttered under his breath as he eyed a few prospective **TBO** s that were hovering near the counter area, waiting to be seated.

“So what does **TBO** stand for? Or...” Eric smirked from one side of his mouth as he looked about the three faces. “... am I not permitted to know, since I'm suspect to be one?”

Michael reached out to lay a comforting hand over Eric's forearm, soothing the skin. “I'm sorry. I guess we forget sometimes how odd we are when someone new joins us. We start looking, and acting...” He glanced quickly at Ted and Emmett. “... like idiots. We're usually a little more civilized and respectful.”

“—see, 'cuz that's where it gets confusing.” Emmett shook his head in sadness. “Not only are you here, having eaten with us and paid for our meals, but you hang out with us wherever we are, whenever you can. A typical **TBO** —they wouldn't associate with our kind.”

“Yeah.” Ted chimed in again. “They just like to fuck and run.”

Eric chuckled along with everyone else, “I take it being a **TBO** is a bad thing?”

“No, not really.” Michael shook his head to disagree.

“That depends on the person,” Ted interjected as he munched on his leftover food.

Eric raised his eyebrows, looking about the three faces watchful of him. “Well—am I just gonna be left in suspense?”

Michael smiled, shaking his head. “nah, no. It's just that— _now that you know—_ we don't want you to feel offended or put off. We're not going to suddenly isolate you because we considered you being one.”

“ **TBO** stands for _The Beautiful Ones,_ ” Emmett blatantly stated as no one seemed ready to actually give away the meaning behind the infamous initials.

Ted crossed his arms on the table surface, his face tilted to the ceiling as he spoke like he was reading the background historical re-telling of an ancient culture or civilization. “Think of them, like, a race of ' _untouchables_ '. Or ' _look, but don't touch_ '.”

“Sometimes in groups.” Emmett rolled his hand over and over. “You know— _like attracting like_.”

Ted looked at Emmett, from the side of his left eye, simply because he really didn't need additional help as he had control of the discussion. “—other times, they fly solo. Rarely do they flock in smaller groups.”

“Yeah,” Michael snorted out a laugh as he went to move his mouth to find the tip of the straw poking out of his glass of soda. “... then it simply becomes Hot Guy with decent-looking best friend who can't get a date.”

Eric actually found the definition, and symbolism, kind of amusing. “And you're debating if I'm a 'Beautiful One' or not?” He lay a hand on his chest, his index finger jutting out to point at himself rather softly.

“See—” Emmett shrugged, then stuck out both hands palms up, as he tried to say, with his body, how stupid it was to try an explain the ways their minds worked together to come up with this stuff. “... it sounds so trite and petty when it comes out of someone else's mouth.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Em and I are pretty set against the theory. The jury is still out for Ted.”

Eric patted his chest in mock agony, directly over his heart, lifting sorrow-filled eyes to Ted. “ _Et tu, Teodoro?_ ” He had the table back to outright laughing after the long stretch of awkward bantering. “Look, I'm flattered by the assumption concerning my looks, but you'd be shocked to know I'm more like you three than a **TBO**.”

Emmett placed a hand under his chin, staring fondly at Eric as he batted his lashes. “oh, I can't wait to hear the real story.” He didn’t have any misgivings about hiding his small crush on Eric.

“Rain check? I need to make a pit stop back at my place...” Eric held up his bag of lemon bars. “... and then head back to the gym.”

“It's a date,” Emmett chirped as he rose to put on his jacket, nearly bumping into Brian, who had snuck up on them. “oh! my—sweetie...” He had put out a hand to stop Brian from mowing him down completely, then pat Brian's chest. He moved out of the way to say something private to Eric as he stood to help Michael off the bench, “ ** _TBO_** _oldie but goodie_.”

“ahhh...” Eric spared a quick glance to Brian as now he was beginning to comprehend this weird code. “ Brian...” He respectfully acknowledged the other man, watching as Michael naturally gravitated toward Brian and Brian had a hint of a smile as his eyes followed Michael's approach.

“Eric...” Brian lifted his chin upward, briefly, then lowered his head as Michael strolled near to him. “Are you done here?”

Michael thought the curt tone was for missing out on lunch. “We tried calling but it kept going to voice-mail. Then Cynthia told us you had an important lunch meeting.” He kept his eyes down, but slowly raised them when he saw how Brian was dressed. He bit at the corner of his mouth to prevent a goofy grin. “How did it go?”

“Good. I just got out myself.” Brian glanced at his watch. “I hoped I'd be in time to catch you.” He watched Ted and Emmett exit with a “ _call you later_ ” and a small wave to Michael and Brian, then toward Eric.

Eric could tell when he was no longer needed. “Jesus, I'm running late. I've got my kids tonight, Michael, so I'll have to bail on tonight.” He gave Michael a short, tight hug, but Michael was the one who added the soft kiss to a cheek. “But call me— _okay_? Or hit me up at the gym while I'm there.”

Brian waited until Eric was gone, and he could hear the familiar jangle of the bell above the door. “Gym? He goes to the same gym too?”

“Brian, don't even start.” Michael wasn't ready for a jealous, fire-breathing Brian.

“It's not _me_ , Michael, it's _you_.” Brian put up both hands in defense of himself. “You're the one making it more than it is or has to be.” He lifted his chin, prepared to mock Michael for his failure. “What happened to your huge sexual orgy extravaganza?”

Michaels softly chuckled, shaking his head. “Give a guy a break, huh? I'm a little rusty. It's a different 'scene' out there.”

“Scene? Michael, it's been our 'scene' for years. You were in it— _deep—_ even when you were with Bruckner and Cameron.”

“Was not!” Michael acted outraged. “Must've been that _Other_ Michael you keep thinking hangs out with you.”

Brian smirked, clearing his throat. “Speaking of 'hanging out', I'm playing hooky from work.”

“oh? Why?”

“—’cuz I'm bad-ass like that. And I love warping your goody-two-shoes reputation. I'm, also, spontaneous and... I miss _you_.” Brian swallowed hard. “I miss **_us_**. We haven't been 'just us' in a long while.”

Michael felt his face going flush. He reached out to tug at the soft sweater Brian was wearing. “Why do you look like me?”

“huh?” Brian was a bit distracted by Michael's return to his subtle way of touching him so innocently.

“These clothes. They aren't yours.” Michael furrowed his brow in curiosity. “Where's your usual power suit?” Once he felt the material over Brian's chest, he couldn't stop touching it, forgetting that it lay on Brian's body and they were in public.

“uh—uhm...” Brian was distracted by the sensation of Michael petting the length of his torso. “The rain. Earlier. I was drenched. A good Samaritan loaned me some clothing.”

“mmm...” Michael pulled on the hem. “I like it. You should dress like this at least once or twice a week.”

“Clients like a good suit.”

“They trust someone who is comfortable in whatever he wears.” Michael tugged on the lapels of Brian's jacket. “It makes you look... younger.”

“Youthful,” Brian corrected while intensely watching the way Michael's eyes wouldn't stop staring at him, or the pupils not dilating to show a gradual shift in emotions, stuck between happiness and pleasure.

“Whatever.” Michael hurriedly hid his hands behind his back to prevent himself from being “grabby hands” with Brian. “So... what's the offer?”

“Double-feature. At one of our old haunts. I figured we could get a bite to eat afterwards.”

“A double-feature of _what_?”

“mmm... I'll let that be the surprise.” Brian easily slid his arm around Michael's shoulders to swing him around toward the Exit door. “C'mon, let's go.”

“Can I call the store on the way?” Michael was already reaching for his cell phone, patting the areas where he typically kept it hidden. “Tell them where I'll be, if they need me?”

“You do what you feel like, but you're mine for the rest of today, and, maybe, tonight.” Brian dipped his head toward an available ear; his nose nuzzled a patch of hair and the upper curve of the lobe.

Michael allowed Brian to steer him out of the diner onto the sidewalk, then was utterly flabbergasted when it seemed like Brian would tuck his arm into his elbow. What Brian actually did was take Michael's hand, threading their fingers to hold tight. That phone call to his assistant store manager was one of the most awkward, stilted conversations he had ever conducted intentionally.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian propped Michael at the side of the front door while he fished the house key out of his pocket. He slapped Michael's hands from attempting to dig for his own keys that weren't there.

“QUIT! I have 'em, Michael.”

“oh!” Michael chuckled, then hiccuped, releasing a tiny burp under breath. “Jesus...” He blew out a long, loud breath as he wiped a hand over his face, then combed through his hair. “That was some really good wine at dinner.” He closed his eyes, almost leaning toward the window casing to his left. “Whoa!”

Brian was quick to snatch Michael about the waist, dragging him inside the foyer so he could shut the door. Thankfully, there was a bench for Michael to sit on. Brian was slipping out of his jacket; he hung it on a hook, then went for Michael's coat. He had to crouch to his knees to work the zipper down, slowly standing as he untucked Michael's arms from the sleeves. He was lightly grinning as Michael bent forward and pressed his brow to his mid-section. Brian soothed over the back, along the shoulders, tickled the nape and then leaned over to kiss the top of the dark head of hair. He massaged scalp, brushing back the tangled locks. “You are so dead on your feet.” It was on his lips, choking his throat, to ask Michael if he had been sleeping properly. Brian knew Michael would hide the truth from him, so he didn't pester. “C'mon...” He hefted Michael upward by taking one of his hands. “... it's time for you to hit the sack.”

Michael stuck his hands out, palms flat, to smooth over the cashmere material. He kept his head bent and eyes averted. “You leavin'?”

“Want me to stay?”

“I do, but I refuse to beg.” Michael shook his head as he slid his hands up and down Brian's ribcage. He shut his lids in a mild thrill of how warm and soft Brian was, like a cuddly stuffed animal.

Brian brought up his hands, cupping the sides of Michael's head, but not daring to lift the chin. He was fascinated with just watching Michael's draw to this _damn_ sweater. It was sensual intimacy gold. He wanted to buy ten more, with cashmere pants to go with them, simply to have Michael touching him this way again. He soothed his knuckles along the shape of Michael's jaw. “I won't make you beg. Ever.” He was tempted to kiss the brow, inch up the hairline to sniff at the hair, but he stayed right where he was; Michael came to him, burying, and tucking, his face in his neck.

“... **_you_** _feel good_... **_this_** _feels good_...”

Brian knew what Michael meant. He slid one arm around Michael's back to hold him to his chest, the other arm he dangled at his side. He set his cheek on Michael's head and shut his own eyes. “I never realized how tiny your foyer was until now.”

Michael giggled, only because—leave it to Brian to attempt to change the subject when a situation bordered on being a bit awkward. “mm'fine. Point me in the right direction for the stairs.”

“I think I can do that. I’ll bring you some water.” Brian curled his arm around Michael’s shoulders while he huddled under his arm. “I’ll make some coffee too.” They took their time making it over to the base of the staircase. Brian made sure to place Michael’s hand on the bottom railing post. “You able to make it up there?”

Michael snorted out a short laugh. “I’m only tipsy, not drunk.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Brian mumbled as he cleared his throat and eyed Michael’s extremely slow progress up the steps. “Stop, if you feel dizzy. Then just call out for me.” Brian left to enter the kitchen, keeping an eye on Michael through the doorway, and then the cut-away in the kitchen wall into the dining room. He took a bottled water out of the fridge, then paced over to the coffee maker. When he was at the sink, filling the glass canister with water, Brian noticed Michael had sat down. He hadn’t heard one peep to call out; he was still concerned anyway. “oh, Christ...” Brian set down the glass canister and walked out of the kitchen. He stood at the bottom stair when he gestured for Michael to stand. “Git up. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

“—awww, tha’s sweet- ** _uggghhh-ahhgrhhh_**...” Michael’s entire world turned upside down.

Brian didn’t say it would be a Fireman’s Carry up the rest of the way, over his right shoulder.

Either Brian was getting weaker in old age or Michael wasn’t as light, and fluffy, as he used to be. He carried Michael to the side of the bed frame, settling him down with a bounce on the mattress. Michael kicked off his shoes and proceeded to crawl, above covers, toward his side of the large King-sized bed. Brian snickered, yanking Michael back to where he stood, but only managed to pull off the heavy cotton socks. Well, it looked like— _if Brian chose to sleep at Michael’s house—_ that he would have to switch sides. He hefted up onto the mattress with one knee, rolling Michael over onto his back when he tried to hibernate into a pillow. Michael let his entire body go limp, peering through eyes that had narrowed to slits as he watched Brian start to undress him.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up.” Brian kept having to swat Michael's hands away so he could handle the tasks himself. “Neither did you when you did it for me.”

Michael couldn’t recall the last time he had half-carried an inebriated Brian back to bed. It had been so long ago. “Jesus... do I have months of payback to look forward to?” He eyed how deftly Brian worked at undoing his jeans, untucking his long-sleeved shirt and unbuttoning the material. He flipped to his right so Brian could work on the left sleeve, then switched to do the same with the right sleeve. Michael had rolled toward Brian when he was attempting to untuck the shirt from under his body. He made to flip over as far as he could, but Brian was blocking his path.

Brian wasn’t moving because he hadn’t expected to see huge, fucking biceps flexing under Michael’s t-shirt sleeves. Well, they weren’t bodybuilder huge, but they were for Michael Charles Novotny. Once he had the top shirt bundled in his hand, Brian threw it to a chair like he was aiming for a basketball hoop; he was shocked when he actually made the “shot”. Brian rolled Michael back over, now intent on— _somehow—_ sliding him out of those jeans. Jeans that had used to look like hanging tapestry over Michael’s skinny legs. Now there were bulges and creases, the denim sticking like second skin.

 **_What the fuck? When—?_ **

Brian shook his head, not really wanting to know. He tried to focus on Michael’s peacefully drowsing face, stuck on rewinding memories of years past. He couldn’t think about Michael changing, morph-ing into this virile specimen of male sensuality that could attract him. Of course he knew in order for Michael to get anywhere with other men, Michael shouldn’t look like “Mikey” anymore. But Brian didn’t know how to cope when his mind veered off into sexual territory, especially not now, at a moment like this.

He pulled the jeans down the thick thighs, eyes going wide when he saw the soft dark hairs on the pale skin trailing up toward the outline of the tight briefs. Thank God Michael wasn’t easily aroused when drunk; he was just extra-loving, wanting to snuggle. Brian got the denim off, one leg at a time and soothed up and down the bare limbs. He slapped the side of the ass in order to wake Michael. “C’mon... up! Git under the covers...”

“oh, all right... Mom!” Michael grumbled as he tried to sit upright and grabbed for the comforter and sheets, from under his backside. With a little help from Brian, he was safely tucked under, head plastered to the plushness of a pillow. “... _nite-nite_...” Michael folded his hands over his chest, right where the hem of the blankets gathered, then he turned his head to face away from Brian.

Brian couldn’t believe that was **_it_**. Job over. He could go back downstairs and finish making the coffee or leave. It irked him to no end that at some point Michael had turned off his need to talk to him, confide in him about everything. Generally, Michael would’ve been blathering on and on about _something:_ his store, his mother, his husband... something pertinent to him that plagued his mind with bewilderment. Brian hardly thought Michael was totally satisfied with his life that _nothing_ confused or confounded him. He knew one thing had to be ripping Michael to shreds, only because making a rash decision to fill your bed— _this bed—_ with nothing but strangers for “just sex” was quite an undertaking from being married and monogamous for four years.

He could have easily climbed off the bed the same way he got on, but he didn’t feel that kind. Brian threw one leg over Michael’s body, straddling his hips, but hovering. He planted fists on the mattress as he leaned forward; his face was mere inches from Michael’s. His eyes traced the hair, then closed lids as he bent to sniff at the odor. He reopened his eyes to continue down Michael’s upper body until he reached the folded hands. He saw the white stripe across the ring finger, still giving the idea that someone else had possessed Michael. Brian wondered if Michael had kept the ring, using it from time to time to get back that feeling that being married gave to him. He noticed that Michael’s nailbeds looked surprisingly healthy, like he had them done professionally. He doubted Michael stopped biting them completely; he was naturally too neurotic to quit cold turkey.

For the first time in a long time, Brian watched Michael breathing while asleep. Gone were those days of needing to eye him like a hawk, in case he needed a puff of air from an inhaler. God, how long ago had that been? To Brian, it felt like just yesterday. Everything with Michael felt like it was yesterday. Even their spats and fights. **_Fight_**... jesus... a fight that had nearly broken them apart, and it could still be severing them in two. Who knew what went through Michael’s mind. He might forgive, but he would never forget. Ever.

Brian swung his right leg over to climb off Michael and eventually the bed. He stood at the side wondering if he should simply climb back in or return to the kitchen to cool down. He chose the latter because one more second in that bedroom and he would be caught up in rethinking several things at once, where Michael was concerned.

... and Michael was relieved when Brian finally left, because he could reopen his eyes and return to breathing regularly. He lay there in his bed, safe and warm under covers, but he couldn’t stop shivering or stop the moisture from leaking out of the corner of his eyes. Jesus, it was like he was fourteen all over again, slowly losing his heart to a rebellious youth who would never see him as anything but a really good friend. At least he had put a stop to those random hugs and kisses that went too far into lover territory. He did miss them, though. It was why he had started touching Brian so freely today. Well, and, also, he did love the feel of cashmere.

Michael flipped onto his left side, bringing his right arm up to hug his pillow tight and then proceeded to bury his shame away under his arm, closing his lids.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Nearly two hours later, Brian made it back upstairs with enough coffee in him to keep him awake for hours, but he was beginning to feel exhaustion set in. With three beds and a fairly comfortable couch to choose from, there was only one place Brian wanted to sleep in this house; he decided to stick with his original thought as he climbed the stairs, not change it a hundred times along the way. It would be another few minutes before the heater kicked on. Once Brian was dressed down to underwear, he ran to the bathroom to take a quick piss, then bolted back to the bed to get under the covers.

There was a faint chill to the room. Michael had become a little warm, kicking off some of the layers of sheets. Not to mention, to Brian’s surprise, that Michael had taken off more of his clothes. When had Michael started liking to sleep bare naked? Brian remained still on his back, his right arm down his side while he placed his left arm up and around his head. He shut his lids and tried not to think about Michael being nude inches away from him. His mind wanted to conjure images he knew wouldn’t “fit”. He was curious, though, to what a sleeping Michael would do, if given the freedom to not think and hold grudges. Brian rolled to his right side, tucking his hands, palms together, under his cheek.

He had to chuckle. He could barely “see” Michael— _the man he once knew as Michael—_ and simply saw a beautiful pale-skinned creature curled about himself with a leg drawn upward. It was a typical position Michael slept in, but different because both of them were changing in many ways as they aged, matured. Michael’s left arm was stretched out, fingers curved loosely. Brian reached out to touch those fingers with his own, holding upper tips in his grip as he let his thumb rub over that bare strip where the ring had been. He slid over, a bit closer, and brought the hand to his mouth. Didn’t kiss the skin, but did press lips to the flesh to soothe against his face.

Brian lifted his eyes to find wide brown eyes staring at him wearily. “—hey-sorry...” He let the hand go, startled when Michael re-gripped him.

“No. Don’t. I thought you had left.” Michael cleared his throat, his eyes on the bed. “I’m naked.”

Brian sniffled out a chuckle. “I know. I don’t mind.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but smirked slightly. He used his hand to protect his “junk” before he brought down a pillow. “Now I know why you love sleeping naked.” He blinked his eyes slowly as if in pure ecstasy at the sensation it was bringing him. “Being alone in this huge monstrosity lends itself some freedoms.”

“You don’t need to make excuses to me.”

“I know I don’t. I just—I never expected to be naked in bed with you.”

“I can go.” Brian made small movements to get out, but really wasn’t intending to go the whole nine yards. “There’s plenty of other places—”

“No. Don’t. Stop.” Michael woke up a little more, blinking rapidly. “Tha’s not what I’m saying at all.” It looked like he had a thought, wanted to voice it, but then shook his head “no”. He lifted black lashes to glance across at Brian. Michael brought up his right hand, taking away his left as now he grabbed Brian's own right hand, a solid hold around the thumb— _palm to palm_. “Thank you... for tonight—las’ night. I miss all that stuff.”

Brian kept his face unmoving, content to watch Michael’s features curiously try to hide real feelings. It was heartbreaking, but truthful. “I thought you deserved it.”

Michael raised his brows, laughing at himself. “I forget what that’s like.” He detached his hand, dropping his eyes to look at his fingers as he played along Brian’s palm, tracing the backs of fingers, then moving up the wrist and forearm. “—to have someone else anticipate my needs... take care of me, in a way.” Michael slowly raised his eyes to now gaze at Brian, catching hazel eyes averting, deep in thought. It was on his tongue, caught in his throat, to tell Brian it was okay. He wouldn’t read too much into this one unselfishly sweet act. But Michael didn’t want to keep breaking every tender moment with Brian, making a thousand excuses and cutting him some slack. He had to stop dictating Brian’s actions, guiding him how to feel, how to have an emotion he didn’t genuinely feel in himself. Brian was a big enough man to make his own choices. He had proven that immensely with Justin, even though it had blown up in his face.

There was so much silence, so much empty space... it nearly choked and crushed Brian to death. Michael laying there, those nimble fingers strumming the patch of skin on his arm. It drove Brian mad with heartache. An apology sat on his tongue, ready to pour forth, but all he did was scoot closer. He was on his elbow, watching Michael’s fingers and then looking down into that sweet, familiar face in profile. He had to touch it— _do_ ** _some_** _thing—_ or he would yell, scream... punch a pillow— ** _hard_**. He brushed through the hair first, which caused Michael to make a noise under his breath and close his eyes. Brian saw the lashes flutter against pale, flushed cheeks and then came that crooked tear out of the corner of Michael’s right eye and Brian felt gut-punched.

“Jesus Christ...” Brian moaned out in a long breath as he quickly pulled Michael over to huddle into his chest. He couldn’t remember any time after Ben’s departure that Michael had showed him how shattered he had been. Brian blamed himself, mostly, because he knew Michael held it all back for him, to prevent the eventual “I told you so”. At the time, Brian hadn’t even wanted to hear the name; Ben was old news—out of sight, out of mind. Just like David. Now, it was moot to gloat because it appeared to affect Michel, then it came between their bond and twisted it into something sinister and perverted.

Brian’s hand now locked onto hair strands like he was grappling rope for a lifeline to pull Michael out of the water, safe from drowning. It eased him to feel Michael tuck his own arms under and then up to hold on tighter to his shoulders. A pillow and piles of blankets prevented them from truly being as close as they could be, but Michael was attempting to be modest in his nudity.

“—’m sorra...” Michael mumbled against Brian’s chest. For the first time, he really did feel that life wasn’t such a stinky shithole.

“Shut up.” One arm was weakly around Michael’s neck and shoulders, his other arm bent so the fingers could play in Michael’s hair. “Both of us should apologize. But I say, both of us were wrong, both of us were right. Even steven. Agreed?”

Michael chuckled, sending his palms to rub over Brian’s back, then his fingers. He could almost swear he heard Brian softly sigh in contentment. “I can’t even recall how this started.”

“It didn’t. It was there, dormant and waiting for one of us to finally snap.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m changing my mind.” Michael moved back to tilt his head. He saw Brian raise a curious eyebrow. “About sleeping around.”

Brian narrowed his eyes with a slow nod of his head. “Fine, but don’t expect me to _like_ it.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Michael went back to snuggling against Brian’s chest, his fingers still moving over Brian’s skin.

Brian kept his real opinion to himself, then wished he hadn’t promised to give up smoking so soon. His fucking nerves were shot.

**~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

  


  
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Eric was opening up the spiral binder, having to turn it the long way in order to backtrack and fill in the blanks where all the spaces were missing important information. From his station at the low counter below the front desk, he could see the mid-afternoon clerk using too much of his valuable sales time for his personal dating service. Yet another potential sales pitch walking out the door. This wasn’t Eric’s gym, and he wasn’t the manager, but he wished he was to get a handle on this chaos brewing. He was only here as a business consultant, for four months, or until the gym’s account books were out of the negative numbers.

Eric figured he would wait until there was no one around before he spoke. “Carey, you’re not keeping your tallies up-to-date.”

Carey spun to give a bored, lazy stare toward Eric. “Isn’t the blank box enough?’

“It’s a business before it’s a man-flesh buffet. Your bosses _bosses_ need to see proof of what an ‘empty box’ really means. Which is why you write a zero or actually write in the number to show membership sales and/or products sales from the store.” Eric pointed to all the items behind him on the shelves and racks. “Or whatever else might be sold that this company provides.” He caught the curious lift to Carey’s eyebrow. “And no—I don’t mean _you_.”

“Be thankful you look so attractive when you’re bossy... or I’d tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“oh, if only I were capable. I wouldn’t have to deal with cranky, self-absorbed bitches like you.”

“ _Touché._ ” Carey was already uninterested as he turned to glance across the front room at the young man behind the fruit smoothie bar. “mmm, excuse me. I’d love to chit-chat more, but my _boyfriend_ just started his shift.” He walked out from behind the front desk assuming Eric was there to take his place.

Eric did, not saying much else; he didn’t really like Carey but enjoyed the gym patrons. He even wandered out from behind the desk, strolling around the small store that took up a good portion of the front foyer. If Carey didn’t return, or took another unscheduled fifteen-minute break, Eric would bring over one of the workout room floor monitors and put them on clerk duty. They were gruff and disciplined enough to follow orders when told because they actually enjoyed their job.

Two familiar faces walked up to the LCD screen to check out for the day with their membership cards. They were elbowing one another as they laughed. Eric couldn‘t help but smirk at their playfulness and excessively loud bantering. He had seen them around the gym quite often and really envied their closeness, and the wit and cattiness that sometimes poured forth.

“He. Is. Gooor-geee-ussss!”  
“mmm... **_cum_** -pletely fuckable.”  
“Not—a people person, though.”  
“—but, that is _such_ a turn-on. I seriously saw him blush. I thought only virgins blushed.”  
“He did look rather adorably shy when he refused to give you his number.”  
“I know! I almost fainted. It just means I have to try harder.”

Eric shook his head, marveling at the rarity of gay man who actually showed up to a gym to **_work-out_** and rejected the advances of attracted men. He slid along the higher counter, approaching the two men. “Had a good workout?”

“mmm-hmm... _best_ part was my shower.” The short, blond man of the duo rolled his eyes in imagined ecstasy as he ran his finger tips along his exposed collarbone, up his throat.

“oh, yeah.” His taller, broad-shouldered dark red-haired friend spoke up with a jut of his hip. “We would very much like more of **_Him_**.” He moved an inch backward to point toward a far away corner of the glass-encased exercise room. “ ** _He_** —is motivation for all kinds of heavy lifting and repetitive activity.” He wiggled his eyebrows appropriately as he and his smaller friend joined in heightened snickering.

Eric let out an easy smile, trying not to look in that direction. “eh, I’ll take your word for it.” He folded his arms over his chest, hands grabbing for his elbow joints. “What types of exercise do you boys like to do?” He didn’t realize it would be such a tough question to answer. Eric chuckled at his own sense of humor. “What do you find yourself doing _the most_ here?”

“Running.”  
“Some cardio.”  
“Why?”  
“You taking a survey?”  
“mmm, maybe he’s hittin’ on us.”  
“Are you?”

Eric laughed outright, flattered but not interested in the least. “No. Do you like it here?”

“Sort of. But where else am I gonna go?”  
“It _is_ close to home _and_ work.”

“And that’s important?” Eric already knew it was, he simply liked hearing it said back to him.

“Extremely. There used to be one at my workplace.”  
“And our apartment complex _does_ have the space for it, but there's not enough agreement that it's do-able for everyone's benefit.”  
“Well, expanding the laundry room _was_ the better option.”  
“oh, yeah— _definitely_.”

“Cool.” Eric was about ready to bid the men a “goodbye”, and be on his way so they could leave for the day. “Thanks for answering all my questions. It's nice to hear positive feedback.” They had been one of the more vocal of gym members he could recall in a long time.

The red-haired man glanced about the front foyer. “Where's Carey?”

His blond companion looked over his own shoulder, eyes narrowing and then elbowed his friend. “mmm— _where do you think_?”

Eric knew this kind of a response was a “red flag” alert. “Does that _bother_ you?” Maybe if customers put in complaints, the owner would reconsider keeping Carey on-board.

“Only when he hits on guys we _like_.”  
“Yeah, we don't mind when he goes for the straight ones.”  
“oh, yeah, he can have _those_.”

“Thanks again. _Very_ much.” Eric found this piece of information quite compelling. “If there's anything I can do for you two, just come find me and ask.”

The two friends looked to one another, bewildered by this moment. They couldn't ever recall being approached by an owner of a gym they belonged to and given some kind of “secret passage” to making some kind of change.

“Are you going to become the new owner?”  
“Yeah, we've been seeing you around.”  
“Thought you were a new member.”  
“—but then you started wearing the gym employee uniform.”

Eric shook his head to reply to their question, though he did have a hint of a smile on his lips. “I'm actually an old friend of the real owner. I'm here consulting, for a few months.”

The blond man looked Eric up and down, and found him _somewhat_ appealing. “Is that what you _do_?”

“Partially.” Eric nodded slowly as he answered. “Most of my other time, I run my own gyms.”

“ ** _Gyms_**?!?”  
“mmm— _plural_.”  
“So... you're rich?”

Eric found it hilarious that he was now becoming a little more attractive to the men. He also realized he was being “hit on”, officially. “No. Not exactly. I am modestly comfortable.”

“Still—”  
“—you own a business— _plural_.”

Eric was really enjoying this conversation, because he knew it wasn't going to go anywhere sexual or continue outside the building. “Actually, I'm trying to branch out of that and do a sports/workout clothing line.”

“Seriously?”  
“You're a designer?”

“More of a—uh... I come up with concepts, then I work with a designer.” Eric gestured behind him with his thumb over a shoulder. “They just started carrying some of my line here.” He waved them over to follow. As Eric wandered away from the desk, Carey sauntered back to his position, a bit perturbed that the possibility of making a sale had been taken from him.

“oh!... how cuuuuute!”  
“Delish! My tush would look deee-vine in this little number!”

Eric crossed his arms behind his back. “... 15-to-20% discount, if you're a gym member.”

“Sold!”  
“He'll take two of every color!”

Eric liked their enthusiasm and verve. This was the type of customer he knew he could win over with his sense of style and eye for what attracted most people to fashion. He took down the shorts, then touched the piles of tank-ts nearby. “Can I interest you in matching tanks?”

“He's got flabby underarms.”  
“And he's got boxy shoulders.”

Eric chuckled as they both were complaining about the other's looks in revealing tank-ts. His hand then moved over to another stack of clothes. “How 'bout matching t-shirts?”

“Jesus, you had to make one with a swooping neckline.”  
“oooo, hon'... here's some with those deep V-necks you love.”

Eric was creating quite an awe-inspiring pile in his arms, feeling like a pack mule. But it was a good feeling as every new piece they found, they wanted two or more colors of. He knew the clothes he was directing them to would appeal to them, immensely. They were also big “talkers”, so there would be no problem with word spreading about these fashions to other potential customers. He carried everything over to the sales counter. “Ring these up for me, Carey.” Eric slid the stack toward Carey's direction.

Carey made no move to grab for them as the clothing kept falling off the higher counter onto the lower one. “Not unless I can get all the commission off this sale.” He wasn't about to actually _do_ work for Eric, who wasn't even his real boss.

Eric placed his folded arms on the counter, tilting his head as he looked directly at Carey. “Don't be nasty.” Then he let a smirk slip out one side of his mouth. “I'm simply proving to you that it's not that difficult to show some pride and initiative in your work.”

“—even when it sucks?”

Eric had a quick retort, but he bit his tongue. “Smile for me.” He faked a broad smile of pleasantry at Carey. “Be pleasant to these men, and I won't tell your employer how often you **don't** cover this desk.” Eric handed over the membership card, then the credit card. “Remember to write up the sales in the binder.” That was his whole point about this moment. He tapped the counter and turned to say a final farewell to the two customers, but they were over at the fruit smoothie counter across the way. To keep the cordial salesman routine going, Eric followed over, telling them their items were being rung up by Carey. They seemed shocked, found something to poke fun at and then began conversing a little more with Eric.

Ronald Clarke, the owner of the gym, and Eric's old friend, finally came out of the back offices, finding Carey working, ringing up sales at the register. “Funny...” He dipped his head to look outside, through the huge wall of glass. “... I don't see a single pig in flight. Did I miss it?” He hid a laugh in his throat, simply smiling as he moved to help Carey with taking off alarm tags with the removal tool and then ripping off the bottoms of the price tags once they had been scanned with the price gun.

“Har-har, Ronnie.” Carey pushed away each clothing item as he scanned them into the register's total. “How long is Drill Sergeant Vaughn gonna be here?” He was shooting evil daggers toward Eric over at the fruit smoothie restaurant, hating that he could hear those two chipper chattering fags try to show off, like they often did when he was there.

“Eric?” Ronald unhooked the material from the hangers, folding the clothes to put them in a shopping bag. “Why? Because you don't like him. He's a big meanie and, for once, he actually makes you work?”

“He bores me with all his sale-pitching and number-crunching jibber-jabber. He's like an accountant, but, like, a _hot_ one.” Carey couldn't deny that Eric Vaughn was a gorgeous piece of male flesh, fit and thinly muscular just how he liked them.

“He's my oldest, and dearest, friend. Not to mention he's one of the most successful small gay business owners in Pennsylvania, willing to share his secrets.”

“Oh, jesus.” Carey rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “You're in love with him.”

“Yeah, I _love_ him. _Like a brother_.” Ronald became hushed and started to move slower. He turned toward Carey. “Is that why you won't let yourself 'like' him? You think I wanna fuck him?”

“oh, silly.” Carey reached out to lightly swat Ronald on the shoulder. “You're married. A beautiful wife, 2.5 kids, a house, a dog... three cars. I don't think you have any homo-tendencies at all.” He now began to pat Ronald's back in mock empathy. “You simply, accidentally became the owner of one of the best gay 'hot spots' in The Pitts.”

Ronald playfully bowed in respect, matching Carey's teasing. “I'm honored. Really.” He smoothed down his bulky chest, wiping away fake tears under his eyes. “You always make it sound so cheap and tawdry.” He cleared his throat, keeping his gaze jumping between customers and Carey's every move. “Did you even consider that I built my business here for purpose, not profit?”

Carey became still and quiet. “Say his name, I'll bop you one in the nuts.”

Ronald smiled sweetly, shaking his head. “My brother was a fool, Care. A sure-fire idiot.” Now he put all of his attention on Carey's back facing him. “Both of us know we can't bring him back just by being here, and staying in one place.” He let a memory pass through his mind, which brought out a wide smile with a soft laugh. “But you have to admit he'd die if he saw me running this place.” Ronald looked around the gym's spaciousness, catching sight of some fine-looking men, and a few gorgeous women, sweating profusely and working out in the distance. “With _you_ at the front desk.”

Carey had to nod his head in agreement, knowing full-well how much Ronald's brother thought his sibling didn't embrace his sexuality. And now Ronald had put himself deep within the very community he had once rejected. “He's a coward and an asshole for running away. We can't forgive him for that.”

“Hey, he's happy. At least that's what his postcards say.” Ronald attached the credit card slips with a stapler, then palmed the cards as he grabbed the handles of the papery gift bags with Eric's clothing line logo embossed on the sides. “Cheer up, Princess...” He brought his hand up, reaching out to pinch Carey's cheek. “... your Prince will find you one day.”

Carey eyed Ronald's departure as he approached Eric and the two customers. He hated all the smiling and laughing going on without him, hated how Ronald hung on Eric's every word, hated how Eric easily slipped into command and every other employee Carey had once shared time with—bantering complaints about work—now looked at Eric and said, “ _how high?_ ”.

Eric noticed the evil glare coming from Carey, then used his fingers to move the edges of his mouth upward to show Carey how to smile, or he'd tattle. He had to laugh or he'd fire someone— _quick_. He knew how sensitive Ronald was about Carey, an ex- _something_ of Ronald's older brother. Carey was “like family” and Ronald was loyal to a fault, needing connection with a sibling he missed like crazy. Eric decided to do his usual mid-afternoon walk-through of the workout room, checking in with the floor monitors and wandering trainers. He realized that he really missed the trio of Michael, Emmett and Ted today. They were coming in later tonight, after they got off work; Eric would be long gone by then. He glanced at his watch and learned he had about two hours left on his shift. He had been doing the extra hours, here and there, to help out with shift changes and the onslaught of new employees. The prior months he'd been here, he had made some permanent changes with Ronald's approval that were now beginning to happen.

As he paced to each person, Eric kept an eye on equipment upkeep and looked around the floors and ceilings for any other minor maintenance, like busted-out lights or power to the plug outlets. The closer he strolled to the end of the room, where the glass walls met at a sharp ninety-degree angle, he noticed a new face. The only thing he could see of the man was a back, and that certainly didn't disappoint. Ear-buds were popping out of the ear canals, hooked to an iPod that was attached somewhere on the track suit bottoms. The tank-t was soaked through, the shaved head was beaded with sweat that dripped down in straight lines along the straining neck, flexing back muscles and dangling arms.

Eric licked his lips like he could taste the wetness and sense the salt on his tongue— _jesus_. He was doing exactly what he disliked about most gay men at gyms. This had to be the gorgeous man the two friends had been talking about, then had been attempting to direct him to hire as a “stunt” gym member to attract more customers. The man wasn't facing the workout room, he faced the glass wall. And not in a vain, narcissistic manner where he was admiring his reflection, but more of a I-am-the-only-person-alive-I-need-my-own-space way. Immediately, Eric liked that attitude. He often enjoyed exercising more when done in solitude—locked in his own mind, music around him pumping away in his head. He glanced at what the man was doing; he liked the combination of free weights and stair-stepping. It would pay off in giving the tall frame a perfect muscular definition, which was already apparent as the body looked killer-sexy in motion. _Oh, man-quick..._ Eric glanced away to not be caught staring as the man walked around the space he'd gathered for himself, and shook out his body in a cool down.

Eric was mesmerized once the man sat on the weight-lifting bench and lay back, pulling everything taut on his frame as he reached above him to use the bar, more for leverage than to build strength and power in his triceps and biceps. He couldn't help it; Eric had to meet this man, if only to compliment him as he slyly introduced himself. He wondered how he would pull a casual meeting off as it was plain the man was comfortable in his own world. Eric would simply be yet another gay man seeking him out, asking for his number.

Eric spent a little more time just staring as he pinched at his lips the closer he wandered to the man’s side, as he lay on the workout bench. He’d never seen a fitter body he wanted to both admire and touch at the same time. Usually, he could keep the distance needed in his mind between a client and trainer. But sometimes, like now, the lines blurred and he was thankful for the career choice he’d made all those years ago. He tried not to be like most trainers who used their expertise to score great lays, gay or straight. You didn’t build a good reputation by bedding every single client you were attracted to. He came up on the left side, then simply stood there watching the intricate body movements as the lung capacity filled and then emptied rhythmically to a pulsating beat. There was stamina and good strength, a power and control made more through the mind than the body.

The man stopped at one point, opening one eye to squint up at Eric. “Yeah?” He wondered if he was in trouble, or if he might be on someone’s equipment who was very superstitious during their exercise routine. The man could read the name of the gym embossed over the right breast on the blue and green polo shirt, so he knew whomever was interrupting him actually worked here.

“Sorry.” Eric let out a small smile, shaking his head. “I could see you from across the room and thought at some point you’d wanna lift this thing—” He tapped on the metal bar both hands wrapped around as the man was hefting his body up and down. “—that you might need a spotter.” Eric waved the offer away, averting his head rather shyly as he stepped back a few inches. Both eyes were open now and— _good, god—_ Eric felt himself melting into a gooey puddle inside. He hadn’t had a feeling this guttural in years. “... never mind...” He put up his hands to show he was apologetic even though nothing had been said, no answers given.

The man lifted himself up by the bar to sit upright; he wiped his half-gloves over his sweating cheeks, then up along his brow. “nah, man...” He hated the way the trainer backed away as if he had somehow been offended. He knew he was intimidating when he got in his “zone”, but never had he immediately caused someone to jump nearly two feet backward. The man was mostly cornering himself to be alone because he needed to think and working out helped him think _deeply_. In the last two hours, he’d been bothered by several men interested in having his number. He was flattered, but really... he wasn’t in Pittsburgh for _them_. “... sorry...” He put up a hand of his own, palm out. “My fault. It’s been...” His eyes scoped the workout room for any of those previous suitors. “... nerve wracking to just concentrate and get a full workout in.”

Eric chuckled, moving forward a bit more. “Then let me apologize for that.” He put one hand to his chest, then smoothed down the front of his shirt. He felt his heart racing. “If you were **_my_** customer, I wouldn’t allow that to happen to you.”

The man raised one curious eyebrow. “That... is an interesting apology that might need some explaining.” He smirked from one side of his mouth.

Eric held out his hand for a gentleman’s shake. “Eric. Eric Vaughn. I’m a small business owner consultant, but I also own, and operate, my own gyms around Pennsylvania. This is _not_ one of my gyms, but my best friend’s. I’m helping him out for a few months.”

The man hadn’t expected so much truth in one moment of introduction. He had to take the hand, wiping his own down the pant leg of his track pants to rid his skin of sweat before he shook. “Well...” He liked the strength in Eric’s grip, and the flicker of pride, with a tiny grin. “Hudson Lyle. And, yes, I know... it sounds assbackwards.”

Eric peeled his hand away slowly, noticing how raw and swollen Hudson’s fingers were looking. “Jesus... _here_.” He got down on his knees, right in front of the bench, and grabbed for the left hand first. “How old are these things?” Eric took off one half-glove and then moved on to the other; as he removed the stretchy material, he massaged the hands to get them back into normalcy.

Hudson lifted up one side of his mouth. “I’ve had them since... gosh, maybe when I was in Spring training in college.” He watched how expertly Eric was massaging one hand, then the other, and rotating in small shifts, each time he set the one hand not being touched on his thigh. Hudson tried not to do the usual thing where he'd grab onto the knee where his hand rested.

“Spring training?”

Hudson nodded his head. “Yeah... baseball. I was almost drafted into the minors, but I blew my  
knee out.”

Eric felt genuine pity, because he knew how debilitating joint injuries could be to promising sports careers. “ _Christ_...” He shook his head as he kept each of Hudson’s hands in his, then stood up. “Stay right here. Don’t move. I may have just the thing for you.” Eric kept the old gloves to throw them out and walked toward the small store in the front lobby area.

With his workout clothing line, Eric also had a line of outfits geared for boxing. He knew he had some rather expensive yet well-padded half gloves that some boxers could use when they trained between bouts. They could also be used for weight-lifting to block the chafing of skin on metal. Eric pulled them down and went behind the desk to find a pair of scissors to cut the gloves out of their packaging. He took out twenty dollars and made a sale for himself, taking the change out of the register to put in his pocket.

Hudson had returned to laying down on his back, on the bench, arms pulled to his side and resting his hands on his abdomen. He had to admit that he was a little pleased to have met someone who seemed to be around his own age, who also appeared to be in good physical condition as well. Not to mention, Eric was quite attractive. If Hudson had been simply living the life of a normal gay man, he probably would have shown an interest in Eric. But because of his real career, and the fact that he already had plans to romance another man, he knew he couldn’t carry on with anyone else. He was still new in town, had barely been there a few days before he could figure his way around. He had just gotten to learn how to find Liberty Avenue on his own and be able to acclimate himself in order to carry off like he’d lived there for years. He kept looking toward the area of the gym Eric had disappeared in, and rose upright when he noticed his eventual return.

Eric was smiling as he squat on the floor again, handing Hudson the new gloves to put on. He didn’t want to assume he could go back to easily touching Hudson, even though he wanted to. He caught those striking tawny eyes keenly looking down at the gloves then back at Eric. Eric could tell there was a bit of shocked bewilderment. “They're just gloves. Nothing fancy. And no strings attached.”

“These look expensive.”

“Compared to what's out there, my company prides itself on being more quality-less costly than most professional brands on the market.”

Hudson transformed from frown to smile. “ _You_ made these?”

“Well... I helped in the design and the process of making them, figured out a reasonable price.” Eric held them out again. “Go on, try them. See if they don't make your hands feel less constricted.” He watched Hudson put on the gloves, velcro-ing the material and flexing his fingers inside. “eh... see? Good fit, right?”

Hudson nodded his head and swung a leg over to stand and reach for a free weight to test the theory. He was really impressed, not knowing why he hadn't bought new ones in years. “It's weird, but they feel like they relieve not only some pressure, but they help lift too.”

Eric nodded his head in agreement, scrambling to get to his feet as he wandered over to the other side of the stacks of weights. This time he did take Hudson's hand, turning it at the wrist to point out the special padding inside the palm area and along the backs of the fingers. “See, inside the design we were able to hide these pockets of rubberized padding. It was all aesthetics and what could be used cheaply in the creation, once we came up with a concept. But this ended up being the best decision we ever made.” He gave Hudson back his hand, finally narrowing his eyes in deep thought. “Have you lived in Pittsburgh long?”

Hudson kept his head bent, wondering how to answer: truth or lie? “No. I've only just arrived here. I used to live in Seattle.” He raised his head, a small grin forming over his lips. “Do I seem like a tourist?”

Eric shrugged then shook his head with an answering smirk. “No. Don't worry. It's me being nosy. You've been, uh... quite the draw.” He was only teasing, but then he felt bad when he saw how uncomfortable and awkwardly shy it made Hudson. “Again, my apologies. I would hope that, at some point, men would one day evolve out this need to preen and prawn, like we're baser than the monkeys we evolved from.”

Hudson chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “It's fine. I'm used to it by now. All it takes is a firm 'no', and they'll back off.” He noticed Eric's doubtful look away. “uh-oh... am I wrong?”

“I don't know why, but some men see it as a challenge.”

“ah, like I'm playing hard-to-get.” Now Hudson understood why some of the men he had been approached by walked away with a bit of a skip in their step.

“Something like that. But I can promise you...” Eric placed a hand over his chest, near his heart. “... if you workout on the shifts ** _I_** have, I can make sure you're left alone.”

“mmm-hmm... how do I know that's not just a ploy to keep me all to yourself?”

“No. Please.” Eric smiled, putting hands up in his own defense. “I don't want your number. I really want you to have a peaceful workout, without feeling threatened every time you come in.”

Hudson shrugged as if he wasn't really that bothered or offended. “They're harmless...”

“I know.” Eric tucked his hands away, realizing they had started to shake a bit. He kept his gaze nailed to the floor, finding his shoe tips rather interesting.

“—and you're sweet to want to look-out for me, a complete stranger.” Hudson was flattered, but even more he was touched by the simple gestures Eric was making toward him. It was rare to find a man who didn't outright want to take him to bed. “Integrity is rare these days.”

“Why thanks. It's simply how I like conducting business. Not all of us gay entrepreneurs look to make money off our customers having sex with each other.”

Hudson went silent and stiff, thinking how ironic that statement was to hear. “—yeah, but I think most things these days get warped or fashioned into being about sex or relationships without even really trying.”

“Do you live close-by?” Eric liked how Hudson snickered at his non-subtle ability to simply blurt out random questions that made it appear like he was “hitting on” him. “Don't worry. I'm only asking because I like knowing how people decide to choose _this_ gym, over others.” He didn't know if it was nerves or if he felt he had to explain himself further, but he kept going on and on. “One of the reasons why I'm here is to learn how to market this place better.”

“I don't live nearby. I heard of this place by 'word of mouth'.” It was a half-truth. Michael's file had told Hudson this gym was where Michael frequented and Brian had told him which days and how many times Michael worked out.

“oh, really? Wow. The owner would love to hear that.”

Hudson furrowed his brow. “Do you live here? Permanently?”

“I travel around PA, but I'm based in Philadelphia.”

“Born and raised?”

Eric shook his head. “No. Actually, I'm from the mid-west. I fell in love with Philly the first time I came to the East Coast on my own.” He wrinkled his forehead in curiosity. “Why do you ask?” Now he wondered if Hudson was trying to pick _him_ up.

“I'm looking for a place to rent. Get out of the hotel I'm in.”

Eric almost let out a huge sigh of relief, but he did feel a weight leave his shoulders. “Permanent or temporary?”

“I have no idea.” Hudson shrugged one shoulder, then rolled both to work out an ache in his joints from standing still. “My job is flexible, at the moment. For now, I'm here.”

“I can give you my realtor's number. She helped me find my house.”

“Really? That would be great.” Hudson would've asked Brian, but he thought he was in enough cahoots with Kinney to weird him out. He wanted some decisions to be made on his own, like he was really moving out here. “Is she in the book?”

“Kind of.” Eric swished his hand from side to side. “She's trying to go out on her own, but where she is now she's got access to whatever you may need. She's not exclusive to the GLBT community; though, somehow, they've started flocking to her. She knows prime locations and places you need to avoid.” Eric smiled as Hudson tried to take everything in he was being told. “Her son is gay. I think you'll like her.” He already knew Jennifer Taylor would like Hudson.

“Cool.” Hudson began to let out a self deprecating laugh. “I never know how to go about finding this stuff out, whenever I travel.”

“Do you travel a lot?”

Hudson shook his head, his eyes narrowing on Eric across the way. “Not for work.”

“Okay. Good-good.” Eric nodded as he backed away, slowly distancing himself. “All right. I've bothered you enough.” He glanced at his watch. “It's nearing the end of my shift.”

Hudson folded his forearms over the stack of weights, not noticing how he'd created flexing muscles and bulges in his biceps. “Yeah, I've been here long enough.” He scratched along his nose. “I should quit, get a shower in and head back to the hotel.”

Eric tried not to picture what Hudson would look like under in the shower room, water cascading down those well-defined muscles and along his naked body. “Did you get a membership card?”

“Yes. I did.”

“... then I'll see you again. Sometime.”

“... yeah, sometime...”

As Eric walked away, he spoke to Hudson. “Before you leave, come find me. I'll give you that direct number to my realtor.”

“—'kay. I will.” Hudson watched Eric wander off, giving the same amount of attention, and enthusiasm, to other gym members. He was just extremely gregarious and friendly. Hudson would attempt to not read too much into something he already knew he couldn't get into.

No matter how much he had liked Eric and his thousand watt smile. Not to mention how subtly attractive he found Eric, especially when Eric had come as close as he had to him, in order to make sure he was well taken care of. Hudson would try to remember why he was here and forget about his own personal life... _for now_.

  
**~~ &&~~&&~~... tbc... ~~&&~~&&~~**   


  



	5. Chapter 5

 

  


  
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Michael knocked on the front door of the house, keeping his arm crossed at his back. The paneling flew open with a grand flourish, Eric looking down at him with wide, frantic eyes. “Hey...” He couldn't help but laugh, because— _alone, and in his own element—_ Eric was an entirely different piece of work, which often reminded Michael of himself, fondly.

“—you're early.” Eric breathed out on a high-pitched voice.

Michael smirked, looking about with some teasing. “Am I interrupting?” Eric acted as if he had stumbled in on him and a lover.

“No, it's just—” Eric paused because he knew he _felt_ weird and if he carried that out to how he _acted_ then he'd never get over this feeling or move on. “I wanted to have most of the food done before you arrived.” He gestured for Michael to walk in, moving back with the door. They mutually air hugged, but really kissed cheeks. He took the bottle of wine Michael had handed to him. “whoa...” He read the label of the expensive brand. “... you really went all out.”

“Thank Brian. I'm clueless when it comes to things like this.” Michael slid out of his coat, glancing about Eric's massive, high-ceiling living space; he liked how open everything was, from one room into the next. “Damn, you cleaned up for me.”

“Don't flatter yourself.” Eric snatched Michael's coat, folding it over his arm. “The Ex came over to pick up the kids.”

Michael nodded his head in understanding. “How did _that_ go?”

“Civilly.” Eric gave off an odd smirk. “At least the new boy-toy didn't come this time.” He went over to set the wine bottle down on the counter, then strolled to the closet to hang up Michael's coat.

Michael shivered, not sure if he could handle that kind of stress or pressure. He had enough of his own, in his own special circumstance. “And the twins? Did they pick up on any awkwardness between you two?”

This was where Eric had a difficult time being as honest, but with Michael he knew he could be blunt. “They were good for awhile, but then, when it was time to go, the youngest had a mini-meltdown.” He was still reeling from that moment, which was why he was a little “off” today.

“oh, no.” Michael was truly sympathetic because he'd had to watch Jenny do the same a few times. “Was it handled better this time?” Eric had made him aware that the Ex didn't like confrontation, nor minor fits of emotions—easily put, _drama_.

“Yes, and no.” Eric tucked his hands away in his jean back pockets, pulling his shirt front tight across his torso. “I had to carry the little guy to his car seat.” He took a thumb nail out to scratch at his temple. “He's still unable to grasp the concept of two homes-two families.”

“I know when it happens with Jenny. I can _feel_ it. I keep telling Melanie, if we're sharing parental duties equally, from a young enough age, it won't be that difficult as she gets older.” Michael shook his head as a thought passed over him. “The more she talks about leaving again— _not to Canada—_ I think my ass naturally clenches with fear.”

Eric appreciated Michael's crass humor at these times. “Sounds like me and my Ex.” He moved to sit on the arm of the chair, adjacent to the couch. “We adopted these siblings intending to only have A child. But once we saw them, we didn't have the heart to keep one over the other, split them up.” Eric made a face of personal disgust with himself, and his Ex. “Instead, now we've split their home in two.”

Michael reached out a hand to soothe down Eric's arm. “I'm so thankful Ben and I only had Hunter.” He squeezed Eric's hand, feeling the tight squeeze in return. “I don't know if I could do what you do with your Ex.”

“It's not easy, but I do it for _them_.” Eric raised both eyebrows, folding his arms over his mid-section. “I bite my tongue more to keep the peace.” He untucked one hand to use as he talked. “He's got the house and the stable career. He'll probably have a new 'husband' any day now. More and more, he looks like the responsible parent.”

“On _paper_ , Eric.” Michael leaned forward to catch Eric's gaze, sounding confidant for him. “Just 'on paper'.”

“Thanks.” Eric felt his face go hot as he felt the warmth fill his skin. He really enjoyed Michael's company, wishing he felt a little more attracted to him, sexually, than interested in him as just a close friend. He shot off the chair arm, lightly touching Michael to move him out of his way as he walked toward the kitchen.

“Anytime.” Michael moved to sit on the couch, in a spot where he was able to peek at Eric in the kitchen. “So... how's work been?” Though he went to the gym as regularly as he could, he still didn't see Eric as often when he was there. “You know we see you at the gym, you hang out with us outside... but you never bitch or moan.”

“eh, half the time my complaints are petty.” Eric yelled back, so his voice could waft in the air through the cut-away over the breakfast bar. “Only things that would bother me. I don't like to bring work into my private life.” He was opening and closing cabinet doors above his head, looking for something specific.

“I hear ya.” Michael now moved to cross his forearms over the back of the couch and rest his chin on the blend. “Ever since expanding my main store, hiring new employees, there's been less of a burden in some areas.” He jokingly smiled at Eric as he watched him find a corkscrew. “But also there are some nice, new stresses.”

“I like your work ethic.” Eric had found that silly housewarming gift he had been given that chilled wine in a small machine, no bigger than the actual bottle. “It's what more small businesses need.” He started to pull down two wine glasses to put on the dining table as well. “Have you ever thought about consulting?”

“Like what you do?” Michael frowned in confusion, only because he never made it known he was business savvy to Eric.

“Sure. Most think you don't need training, just have good business sense.” Carrying the machine, with the added bottle, into the dining area, wine goblets dangling from two fingers, Eric wandered out of the kitchen. “It doesn't hurt to take a few crash courses in business models and economics. A little accounting never hurt either.” He set down the wine glasses, at their respective place settings. Then he went around to make sure he had everything on the table, except food, and then made double-ly certain he had room for the dishes of food that would come out shortly. “The hours suck, and you'll probably work your ass off for very little reward.” Eric stood in the middle of his floor, rubbing his hands together, before he went back into the kitchen. “There's a good lump sum of cash, depending on what you do to help out, or what you deem is worthy of a decent salary to charge.”

“I don't know.” Michael watched Eric open the oven door, then close it to lean toward the dials on the stove top, against the wall. “You're better at this than I am.” He shook his head as he soothed at the cup of his chin. “I swear I'm flying by the seat of my pants, for the most part. I run my business the way I do because I still enjoy what I do.”

“Which is key.” Eric wandered over to the fridge to take out two beers, opened their caps. He turned down some of the burners on the stove top and walked out of the kitchen to hand Michael a bottle from over the couch back. “And why we both never give up.” He was coming around the other end of the couch to sit down on the cushions to catch a breath.

Michael watched Eric move as he took a sip of the beer. “Is everything else okay, business-wise, for you?”

“Yes.” Eric nodded his head on one bounce. “The gyms are doing fine.” He almost slouched on the cushions, forgetting how tiring it was to cook dinner for more than one adult person. “Membership has picked up drastically since the inclusion of the stores.” He rested the bottle in the center of his belly, both hands wrapped around the dark glass dripping with condensation.

“I told you they would be a huge draw.” Michael reached out to gently push at Eric, watching him exaggerate the action.

“Yeah, but...” Eric sighed heavily, craning his neck back on the cushions. “... now I'm being approached to do a DVD.”

“Again?” Michael turned his head oddly, like he heard a weird sound. “Didn't they talk with you before?”

Eric shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. “No, that was a different company. This one exclusively does workout and training videos.”

Michael shook his head, wondering how Eric dealt with all this popularity with the build-up of his reputation, as gym owner and an excellent personal trainer. “Man, they can be relentless fuckers, can't they?”

“ _They_ say it will help the gyms, but I doubt that. I don't want to be singled out, make my face the brand of the company. I've made this business more like a family, not one sole person.”

Michael nodded his head in understanding. “oh, by the way, I called that illustrator.”

“And?” Eric shuffled his head around on the cushions to look over at Michael, mussing the back of his hair.

“He's interested.” Michael had tucked a bent leg under him to sit on, and now dangled the other leg over the couch ledge, swinging the foot to-n-fro. “But he's got some projects he's working on already, and he doesn't want to commit when his plate's full. He's not saying 'no', but—”

Eric tried to think back to when they had the discussion about Michael revising RAGE, and going through a complete overhaul of the comic, starting with the story. “This is the one you were really impressed with?”

“Yes.” Michael nodded his head enthusiastically, as he rolled his eyes. “His spec drawings were phenomenal.” He chopped his hand in mid-air as he couldn't forget those amazing sketches that he wasn't about lose. “He blew all others out of the water.” So much so, that Michael didn't want to use any other illustrator since.

“sheesh...” Eric brought his head back up, a slow smile building over his mouth. “You're _that_ eager to start the comic again?”

“Well, I wanna strike while the iron is hot, and my heart's still in it.”

“Understandable.”

Michael kicked off his shoes and swung his legs up to fit across Eric's lap. He smiled when Eric put down the beer and soothed his hands up and down his calves. It saddened Michael a bit because this was something he usually did with Brian. The first couple of times he had felt comfortable around Eric, ending up doing something this intimate, Michael felt strange, like he was cheating. Even worse, like he was trying to gain a new best friend to replace Brian. “— _sooooo?_ ” He tried to not subtly kick out at Eric's stomach to get him to divulge his deepest, darkest secret.

Eric placed his right arm along the back of the couch, keeping his left arm around Michael's legs. “Yeah, about _that_.” He smoothed over his face, attempting to hide his smirking.

Michael swat at Eric's arm, crossing his own over his chest. “Have you seen **_him_** again?”

Eric couldn't believe he had confided in Michael about that first meeting with Hudson, telling him how he felt, how instantly he'd been attracted after such a long duration of celibacy. Of course, Eric had excluded the name, only because speculation and assumptions were never a good practice. He didn't want to get anyone else's hopes up for him either. Generally men he felt attracted to never reciprocated the intensity or simply wanted the quick fuck. Eric's life had changed too much to step back into his old twenty-something ways. “Well...” He felt his skin go flush, his eyes averted to the floor. “—he _did_ send me a nice note, at the gym, thanking me for giving him Jennifer's number.”

“And?” Michael nearly wiggled with excitement.

“I don't know.” Eric shrugged each shoulder, one at a time, unsure of how to answer. It was weird, because he could chalk it up to Hudson not being interested, and intentionally avoiding him, but there had been _something_ between them when they talked. “I haven't seen him much. But... I have been busier at work, off the floor in the back offices or out with Ron, schmoozing the local PA businesses.”

“awww...” Michael really did empathize with Eric. When Eric had mentioned this _new man_ , the way his face changed, that unstoppable smile and twinkle to his eyes, told Michael Eric was more than attracted sexually. As long as he had known Eric, there was never any talk of men; there was only the Ex and, maybe, about past boyfriends. Eric kept his love life under lockdown, but Michael had known that Eric could find sex whenever he needed it.

There was a buzzing sound; Eric removed Michael's legs so he could stand. “I knew it was too good to be true.” He shook his head sadly, resigned in himself to let go of _any_ possibility with Hudson. There was no way he expected Hudson to feel as attracted to him as Eric had been toward him. “An amazing guy like _that_ , just getting into town right when I'm ripest for 'something more'?”

“uh-oh.” Michael swiped their beer bottles, rising off the couch to follow behind Eric and take a seat at the breakfast bar. “That didn't work out too well the last time.”

“I don't think I was _really_ ready, like I thought.” Now Eric went around turning off dials for the oven and burners. “I'd just been dumped; my wounds were fresh. I had learned the Ex had been keeping someone in the wings, so he could transition easily between both of us.” He put out his hands to try to explain, then couldn't because it wasn't something not easily conveyed unless they'd gone through it themselves. He knew Michael had a rough time with Ben, his ex-husband, but they never really talked much about it. It was simply that Michael would give Eric this “look” of utter heartache and sympathy that he _did_ know, and didn't need details. “I could barely get out of bed some mornings, so devastated and yearning for someone to find me useful again.”

Michael paused, slowly nodding his head in understanding, then waited a pace or two before he spoke. “But do you really think some random guy at a gym, who you don't even know is staying in The Pitts, is the 'something more' you need?”

“I don't know, but I'd like to find out.” Eric started laughing a little when he realized what Michael had said to him. “And, by the way, it's interesting that you take the high road for me, but want the low road for yourself.” He threw a pot holder at Michael, who caught it in one hand, then stuck it on the counter to play with.

“oh, well...” Michael shrugged his shoulders in silent relenting. He never thought choosing to be like his best friend would put him in this moral dilemma. “—the more I trudge along this 'plan' of mine, and people find out what I'm doing, the more I feel _like_ Brian. Especially the way I talk. I wanna proclaim, ' _do as I say, not as I do_ '. Covers half the bullshit I throw around, like I know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about.” He rolled his eyes at his own lameness.

Eric narrowed his gaze on Michael, tilting his head to the side. “You do talk about **_him_** more, with less of a sneer on your face.” He pointed his index finger at Michael, then moved it around in a circle, mimicking Michael's “sneering” on his own face, but exaggerating the look.

“What?” Michael almost spewed his beer through his nostrils as Eric seemed to be channeling 1980's rocker, Billy Idol. “I 'sneered'?” He tried to do his own “sneer”, but couldn't stop laughing.

Eric nodded his head as he held his belly. “About the same when you say Ben's name.”

Michael had no idea he was that transparent. “Jesus, I guess I _do_ wear most of my emotions outward, without realizing I do.”

“I think we're all guilty, at some point.” Eric tried to blow it off as a natural occurrence for everybody.

“Well...” Michael clapped his hands together, hard, and leaned forward with a small grin developing on his face. His whole body's aura was beginning to brighten too. “—Brian and I had a _very_ cool, _very_ comforting night out last week.” He tilted his head and brought up his arm to bend and rest his cheek on. His voice sounded airy and far-away. “God, it was so out-of-the-blue, and he—”

“He— _what_?” Eric stopped moving, spinning on one foot to look at Michael; one arm crossed over his torso, the other one cupping his hip.

“It felt like I had ** _him_** again.” Michael put out his hands in the form of cupping something puring out, down to him to catch in his palms. “You know, like he was focused on me and not distracted elsewhere.” He pounded one fist against his chest.

Eric watched Michael's face closely, because it almost appeared as if Michael would tear up and cry in front of him. “What _happened_?”

“huh?” Suddenly, Michael paused in his heady emotional state, still transfixed by what had happened between he and Brian.

“ _Something_ happened.” Eric wandered over to point into Michael's face, near his eye. “I'm seeing that 'hopeful' look to your eyes again.”

“Well, at one point in the night, I thought he'd be done with me.” Michael brushed the accusing tip of Eric's finger out of his line of vision. “Ditch me at the house and go back out to do his _thing_. But, I don't know...” He turned in the stool to straddle it a different way. “— _christ.”_ Then he face-planted onto the counter, landing on the pot holder as he groaned out his misery. _“_ I draaaank all that wiiiiine at dinner because I thought I'd be home alone. I could sulk and...” Michael raised his head, sticking his hands out to explain. “... _he wouldn't leave_.” Then he brought his hands and arms to his body like he was going to hug himself. “He brought me in, sent me off to bed. He took care of me like I used to when he was drunk or high.”

Eric was really enjoying Michael's reactions to a random night out with Brian; he wanted to die laughing. “How did he do?” He re-snatched the pot holder he'd thrown at Michael.

“ _He_ was goooood.” Michael closed his eyes, sighing. “ _The evening out_ was goooood. _All of it_ felt... goooood, and _right_. Like it used to. He—I...” He really didn't know how to explain what had happened in his bed that night, without it sounding... peculiar.

“See... something _did_ happen. Hold on. Don't say anymore.” Eric had pot holders in his hands, carrying a glass dish out of the oven to put on the counter. “C'mon... git in here and help me carry this stuff out to the table. This sounds like it will be great dinner conversation.”

  
**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**   
  


Brian walked into the restaurant, this time of his own choosing, and stood waiting at the Host's podium.

“Mr. Kinney.”

Brian liked being recognized immediately. “Is my table ready?” He was in the middle of taking off his outer coat, handing it off to the Host.

“Yes, sir.” The Host placed the lengthy material over his arm. “And your companion is here already.”

“ _Figures,_ ” Brian mumbled out as he readjusted his suit jacket and shirt, fumbling over his tie to make it flat.

“Sir?” The Host had trouble hearing out of one ear and thought Brian had said something to him.

Brian waved his hand in the air. “Never mind.” He swept that same hand toward the Host. “Lead on... please.”

Would Brian always come to dread these “lunch meetings” in secret with Hudson Lyle?

At least twice a week, Brian agreed to meet Hudson to be brought up to speed, to ask more pertinent questions, and an overall catch-up on the progress of meeting Michael. Brian thought he should increase those whenever Hudson _did_ meet Michael and things slowly began to grow and became serious. Well, if Hudson succeeded where he had promised.

“Lyle.” Brian still disliked the way Hudson filled out a suit, even one that fit him perfectly. He was almost ripe with jealousy, if he wasn't already jealous of what Hudson was about to embark on with Michael.

“Kinney.” Hudson sat down once Brian did, glancing directly at the other man. He now knew the “score” with Brian; _all business, all the time_. They weren't old friends, and they surely weren't potential new friends. It was best to pretend they didn't know one another, keep it cool and calculated. Nothing extra. “Well... you'll be pleased to find out I've made myself seen enough to spark an interest.” Hudson wiped at his mouth with the linen napkin. While waiting for Brian to arrive, he'd been munching on breadsticks that tasted like garlic-flavored Styrofoam. He had been given a small plate to dump them into herb-ed oils, in order to wet the over-baked dough, but no amount of covering would improve the taste.

“Has he bit?” Brian had been told at the last meeting that Hudson was now a member of Michael's gym. He hated knowing this since he hadn't been to the gym in weeks, nearly a month. It was a reminder to Brian that he was either too busy to care or that he was willing to succumb to the eventual flabbiness that old age brought on. He snapped his fingers in the air to call over their waiter.

“Not yet, but he will.” Hudson hated how that sounded in his ears. He dipped a hand in the inside of his suit jacket lapel to bring out a thick card. “Cynthia said I should give this to you.” He sighed when Brian's refusal to take the card forced him to set it down on the table surface, near the utensils. He pulled off the linen napkin to set down beside his place setting. He watched Brian rattle off some simple drink from the bar. When he had Brian's attention again, he explained what was on the card. “My new place's address, and the landline phone where I can be reached,” Hudson turned his head as he spoke, trying to become interested in the other diners. “I've given my new information to Cynthia too.”

Brian finally picked up the card once the waiter had come back with his drink. His brow furrowed in concentration as he was made aware of where Hudson was living now, instead of the hotel. “mmm... decent neighborhood.” It was a little showy and rich for his tastes. “Why a house and not a, uh... townhouse or a condo?”

Hudson stared at Brian, trying to understand why he asked a question that personal. As if he cared. “uh, well... I liked the house I was shown, and I'm not into prolonging something I should know on the spot. Plus, I could afford it.” He said that last portion to take a small dig at Brian, who he knew lived in a very simple Loft, all on one floor, but that it wasn't as lavish as what he now rented. Jennifer Taylor had flowed with way-too much information when he had sincerely inquired about other gay clients she dealt with. He knew Brian wouldn't like knowing what he knew about him.

“You do that often with other clients? Pretend to be something you're not?”

 _Wow..._ that was several personal questions in a row. Hudson already knew Brian hated the fact he had to come to him for a solution to his problem. He knew it wasn't because Brian harbored some offense to his profession. In fact, take away the cash exchanged, Brian and Hudson were really no different in their sexual satisfaction, but where they did differ was in happiness—putting it plainly, _pleasure_. Hudson could tell that Brian wasn't liking that he could easily take his spot in his best friend's life, become his world, maybe actually fall in love with him. Brian didn't have to say a word; Hudson could read that fact all over Brian's face and body. What Brian didn't know was with one request, Hudson could make Michael love him or he could make Michael hate him. But Brian seemed to feel it was all or nothing, and that there was no getting out of this deal once it had been made. “I'm not doing anything special that I don't do for others.” He was a bit frustrated Brian tried to make it seem like he was stepping on toes, and trying to create chaos. Brian did the “jealous boyfriend” routine fairly well. “I promised you he wouldn't receive any kind of special treatment from me.”

“Okay, so...” Brian slurped down the last of his drink, requesting a refill once he was done. “... tell me again, how did it go?” He shook out his napkin as he brought over his menu to peruse, even though he already knew what he would order. Least he could get was a free meal out of this. “How has it gone?”

“Well, I'm a bit bewildered, actually.” Hudson made the required frown appear on his forehead.

“Why?” Brian asked outright, his eyes quickly scurrying over the menu lists, then back at Hudson. “What about?”

Hudson shrugged both his shoulders, tangled his fingers to place over his crossed legs and then leaned back in his chair. “What's so wrong with Michael that you don't want him for yourself?”

  
**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**   
  


Hudson climbed out of his rental car, hit the button for the trunk release on the key ring and moved to the rear to take out his gym duffel. He swung the strap over a shoulder and then over his head to settle it crossways along his chest wall. He closed the trunk lid, and hit the “Lock” button on the key ring. The very second he spun to turn and walk in between his car and another beside him, his knee gave out and he collapsed on the concrete in a near fetal position in excruciating pain.

Lucky for him there was enough foot traffic going in and out of the gym's building that someone spotted him hitting the ground. They ran over, asking him if 9-1-1 needed to be called; he told them an emphatic “no” through clenched teeth. But then quite a few more people had showed and someone had gone into the gym, itself, to find the owner or at least an employee.

Eric noticed the commotion at the front foyer and wandered over to see one of the customers who had just left, frantically speaking to Carey and Ronald. He came running off the floor when he heard someone was hurt out in the parking lot, and they might need medical attention. He trailed behind Ronald and Carey, pushing through people to get to the victim. He felt his heart leap into his throat when he noticed it was Hudson laying on the ground, in obvious pain. The position he lay in gave Eric the idea it could've been a hit-n-run, but Hudson reassured everyone it was simply his knee giving out on him, the one he had injured back in his college days and had major surgery on to repair. Immediately, Eric slipped into “personal trainer” mode. He asked people to step back, he had Carey lift Hudson's upper body and use his own body so Hudson could lay upright, and Eric could assess the damage, if there was any. He tore at the seam of the track pants to be able to get access to the knee and asked Ronald to get the knee immobilizer from the store.

Grabbing the underside of Hudson's whole leg, Eric palpated the area to understand what had gone wrong. There was no skin broken, with no bone protrusion, and there was no bruise to show a re-injury. He could hear his own blood pumping in his head, through his ears, his heart rate frantic as was his nerves. “Tell me when it hurts.”

Hudson didn't shy away from crying out, or keeping steady—even as hard as Carey tried to pin him down and hold his hands. “... j _esus-fuckin'-christ-almighty!!_...” He writhed back against Carey, almost squeezing the blood out of the poor thin, frail frame.

“oh-kay!” Ronald was back with the knee immobilizer, handing it down to Eric. “What should we do now?” He crouched to Eric's level, laying a sensitive hand on Hudson's body to reassure him everything would be fine.

Eric bent his head to glance at Hudson directly in the half-slitted eyes. “Your call, man.” He attempted to depersonalize the connection to Hudson, mainly because Hudson needed care and attention, not to be babied and petted like a small child with a boo-boo. “You know how best to handle a situation like this when your knee goes out.”

Hudson laughed with a snort, closing his eyes. “Tha's jus' it! It's been years since the last time this happened!” He used to fumble all the time after the surgery to his knee, but through a persistence in training and exercise he'd overcome those disabilities.

“All right... soooo, we know you're in pain—we'll need a headache or pain reliever.” Eric counted off things on one hand as his gaze zeroed on Hudson. “You have any allergies?”

“None that I know of.”

Eric clamped a comforting hand over Ronald's shoulder. “Ron, this is the time when a massage room or a trainer's table would be good to have.”

“Duly noted.” Ronald reached out to now hold Hudson's hand in a tight grip, petting the top of the skin.

“For now...” Eric attempted to think fast about where he could take Hudson off somewhere where there was a large enough surface, and privacy, so he could tend to him better. “... let's clear off the table in the break room.”

Carey stared wide-eyed and pouted at Eric. “But we eat off that table.”

“We're not gonna have sex on it, Carey.” A few muffled snickers went around the stragglers who still wanted to watch. “We need to get him elevated, get that leg and knee iced and then massaged as soon as possible. Let the pain pills kick in and then we see where we're at.” Eric nodded his head at everyone around him, tending to Hudson, then looked down at Hudson, himself. “Think you can stand?”

“uh, yeah...” Through his mist of pain, Hudson found out he kind of liked this taking-charge side of Eric. “... but I'll favor one leg.”

“Then Carey and I will be your crutches.” Eric only added Carey's name because he was the only other one closest to Hudson to easily fit under his arm. “C'mon...” He grabbed for one of Hudson's arms as Carey moved around to take the other and all of them, with Ronald at Hudson's back, hefted him off the parking lot and got him standing. Well, wobbling, until Eric stuck out an arm to secure about Hudson's waist, and then Ronald backed him up with both of his hands at Hudson's hips and lower back. “... come around and hold the doors for us, Ron.”

“—uh, sure, sure...”

With Hudson in pain, doubled over, he'd shortened his height quite a bit, which made it easier to carry him. They managed to hobble along with Hudson, getting him into the breakroom with no trouble, only roving eyes of interest along the way. Ronald stayed outside to take care of the front desk and reassure other customers who looked worried and concerned. Carey appeared more and more agitated—nervous—so Eric had kept an arm about Hudson's lower torso, then held on tight to Hudson's arm around his neck and shoulders.

“We'll get you settled soon.” Eric said these words against the side of Hudson's face that continued to brush his own face as Hudson leaned toward him, feeling light-headed. He could sense that the pain was wearing Hudson down. He soothed his hand up and down along the rib cage.

Through low-lidded eyes, Hudson smirked at Eric. “... _my white knight_...”

Eric actually smiled broadly, feeling a little ashamed. “I won't let it go to my head.”

“mmm'kay...” Hudson almost placed his head down, chin to chest, and fell asleep.

As the surface was cleared, they got Hudson to the table, able to have him stretch out—with some moans and groans—as he tried to go still and not move another muscle on his own. Eric sent Carey out to have Ronald find some pain pills, then asked Carey to gather towels and ice. He remained at Hudson's upper body, taking one of his hands between both palms. He waited until the door shut on its spring behind Carey's departure before he bent toward Hudson's face. His right hand clamped on the table ledge above the shaved head; he brought up his left hand to smooth over Hudson's forehead to check for fever, then he simply wiped away the collecting sweat with some paper napkins. He hadn't expected the half-an-inch of hair on top of Hudson's head to feel so soft and smooth as he used his right hand to brush over the moist blunt locks and ran a knuckle down Hudson's pale, flushed cheek. “Feel a little better?”

Facial muscles started to move again, dark brown lashes flickering against upper cheeks. “It feels better than cold, paved cement, but—” Hudson opened his eyes fully now, briefly catching how close Eric was to him, gaze intent on his face. “—yeah, m'good.” He mumbled out the response as he turned his head to look about him, as if not remembering how he got on the table—like a ready-to-serve, cooked turkey. He licked his dry lips wet, swallowed and then swiveled his head to look up at Eric again. “... _thanks_...” Hudson could barely stammer out the word, an over-whelming feeling of respect pouring forth for Eric, whom he now knew he could trust with his life, and well-being.

“Don't 'thank' me yet.”Eric smirked down at Hudson, his own eyes drowning in the murkiness of Hudson's sleepy, yet appreciative gaze. “I've yet to get this knee positioned how I want it; you may start to hate me later on.”

Hudson brought up his left arm, only so he could shove Eric away, playfully. “Liar.”

“—but I will promise now it's for the best.” Eric sucked in the side of one cheek and bit down on his bottom lip to keep from going into too much detail. Hudson was about to find out shortly.

“Don' know why, but I trust you.” When Hudson had shoved at Eric, Eric had taken his forearm to his chest, and now Eric had placed his right hand in Hudson's left, able to hug it tighter to his body.

“Good, 'cuz I need you to remember that.”

There was a split-second twinkle of mischief in Eric's eyes that automatically put Hudson on alert, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was in good hands, literally and figuratively.

  
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**~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**

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	6. Chapter 6

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v163/sonnygrl/BrianMichael%20Cover%20Art/?action=view&current=TheBeautifulOnesChap6Banner.jpg)

  
  
Hudson understood why Eric had wanted to reiterate so many times to remember how much trust he had in him as he tried to twist and turn the old injured knee. As Eric pushed the leg upward to Hudson's chest, he concaved his whole body to cry out in the utter pain he was feeling. It was even worse than the original injury that started it all.

“... _oh, christ!_...” Hudson was heaving on the table, his arms hanging loosely by his side. “Now I remember how I hated all you trainers in college. You're part-time sadists.”

Eric hated what he could see he was doing to Hudson, but it was truly for the best. It was proving to him that it was only a joint issue and not anything new cropping up. A simple x-ray would prove that fact, but he doubted Hudson wanted to end a day he had been planning to workout in, inside the emergency room of the local hospital. “I know someone who has an x-ray machine in their office.” He slowly stretched out Hudson's leg, his fingers brushing up and down the skin to keep the shaking muscles and tendons from spasming out of control. “I don't want to assume my role in taking over your care— _not like this last hour hasn't proved that—_ but you need to have it looked at in case there is some kind of trauma to the repaired joint.”

Hudson had closed his eyes, nodding his head in slight agreement. He just thought he'd have been done with this kind of issue with his knee. Or at least until he was much older. “God... I don't know what I've done to have it give out on me like that.” Hudson brought up both arms to arc over his face in embarrassment.

Eric shrugged a shoulder, moving up the table to lean his hip on the edge. He could tell how crippling the pain was making Hudson feel and Eric was feeling extremely sympathetic to his plight. He cupped a hand over the right side of Hudson's frame and started soothing up and down the flanks to the waist. “We can get you changed into something less—” He stared down at the ripped leg of the track pants. “—shredded.” He smiled when he saw Hudson faintly smirk. Eric unconsciously slid his hand over, rubbing Hudson's lower abdomen, almost along the pelvic bone. He had completely forgotten decorum and that he had to keep a semblance of distance between he and a patient, but Hudson didn't seem to be phased by it as he kept staring at the ceiling tiles. “If you like, I'll take you. I'll stay with you until we get you settled in for the night.” Now Hudson's sharp gaze was on Eric's face. “You'll have better drugs once we get your leg looked at and...” Eric pulled at the hem of Hudson's shirt to cover the bare skin. “... you can't really drive yourself around with your leg in that state.”

“That,” Hudson dropped his arms to fold them across his chest, tilting his head to look up at Eric. “is a lot of responsibility to take on for someone you hardly know.”

Eric shrugged both shoulders, now playfully rubbing Hudson's stomach. “I don't know. You look like someone who needs a good friend, right about now, and—” He pretended to glance about the room. “— they look to be in short supply.”

Hudson reached out to cover his hand over Eric's, squeezing the shape. “I don't know how many times I can say 'thank you', but you're gonna hear it often tonight.” He lifted one side of his mouth in mockery.

“Good. It'll make up for all the swearing in my ear you were doing when I barely touched you.” Eric soothed over his poor ears.

Hudson deeply chuckled, for the first time feeling a genuine sense of companionship with someone he actually liked, and had thought about when he wasn't around. “Mauled me, is more like it.”

They both dissolved into laughter as Eric tore the rest of the pant leg up to the crotch and discovered Hudson had on a pair of shorts underneath. They decided to dress Hudson down to the shorts, picking up a pair of track pants in the store that snapped up the side of the legs to keep the bare skin from getting cold on their travels. They really wouldn't know what to do until they got to the sports medicine office Eric planned on taking Hudson to; he just had to make a few quick phone calls to get the appointment made.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

The x-ray proved what Eric had figured. No real damage to the repaired joint but some worn areas of proof that Hudson kept carrying on as if he had a _normal_ knee. Flying in from Seattle, coupled with whatever he'd done prior to arriving in Pittsburgh to what he was getting into now, it slowly eroded the ligaments and tendons around the joint and caught up with Hudson. Eric gave Hudson the bad news, telling him was getting older at a much faster rate than any other male his age. Hudson rolled his eyes and told Eric to “shut the fuck up”.

Eric drove Hudson everywhere he needed to go, not to mention he picked up take-out along the way that they would both eat as Hudson settled down to stay in for the night, and possibly next day. A new prescription of better narcotics to help alleviate Hudson's pain were bought and there was no way Eric would allow him to take those kinds of heavy drugs on an empty stomach. Nor would he “drop off” Hudson at his new rental house and not worry about him for the rest of the day. It looked as if Eric would give himself over to taking care of Hudson, since he seemed to be alone in a strange city, with absolutely no contact with friends or family.

Eric wanted to set Hudson up in the King-sized bed in the master suite, but Hudson refused to be coddled to such an extent and have Eric wandering around his bedroom and touching his things— possibly finding private items that might give away the real reason he was here in Pittsburgh. Somehow keeping his recovery centered in the living room, on the couch, in front of a nice wide-screen 55-inch television screen was the better choice. Plus it kept Eric tied to one area of the house, with him needing to run off to the kitchen or a downstairs bathroom at Hudson's bidding.

Eric had moved the low coffee table away in order to push the huge ottoman against the couch so he could get Hudson to stretch out his legs and fix up this towel and ice combination that he'd used before at the gym. It also gave him easy access to the knee once it was time to change into the brace and elevate the limb on a pillow or two. Eric had given Hudson two pain pills right before beginning to sit down and eat with him; the second Eric gathered their plates and started to clean up, Hudson was dozing quietly in the same position he'd eaten in. Eric carried everything to the kitchen, throwing out half-eaten food and packing away leftovers. He washed what few dishes they had used, making a pot of coffee just in case he stayed the night or until morning and Hudson needed him to get to the bathroom on the first floor. There was a pair of crutches leaning against the wall, but Hudson refused to use them, instead using Eric's body for support.

He brought out another beer for himself, grabbing for a bottled water for Hudson. On his way back into the living room, Eric couldn't see letting Hudson sleep for much longer in that position without at least covering him with a blanket. The whole design of the rental house didn't give away a picture of “home”, where clutter and piles of useless collections were in every corner. Nor did it scream that there was a warm throw or a quilt from Grandma laying about, so he tried to find a bedroom on the second floor. He stayed far away from the master bedroom, just because Hudson had pitched such a fit about being up there.

Finding exactly what he needed, and some better sleeping pillows, Eric retraced his steps downstairs and quickly covered Hudson in the thick comforter. As he took a seat nearby on the cushions, he tucked an arm under the broad shoulders to lift the body up so he could settle Hudson properly on another pillow. He sat back, admiring his deft work and became satisfied with Hudson's comfort, then turned his head back to watch television. He picked up the remote to find something to watch on a cable channel that took his mind away for an hour or two.

As the hours wore on, more and more Hudson was leaning toward laying his head on Eric's shoulder. Out of pure instinct, Eric leaned his cheek on top of the shaved head, still stunned by the smoothness he felt. He brought up his arm and surrounded the limb around the neck, his fingers soothing over the bare skin of the throat and upper chest. Wearily, Hudson pulled out the pillow and set it down on Eric's lap to lay completely down as his head continued to pound away. He attempted to curl his body as best he could without being able to bend his knee. Eric helped to put him in another position that suited best. Hudson fell back asleep almost instantly as he felt the light brush of fingers over his head and down his back, over his shoulders and down his arm. It was a nice feeling of comfort he hadn't sensed in years.

Eric did end up staying most of the night into morning. Hudson pretty much wanted a few hours of uneventful sleep, without needing to worry too much about how he'd get from one spot to the next one, then back again. With Eric there, he had a helping hand he didn't know he'd been craving. Not just when he was hurt or sick, but as a good friend when he needed someone to talk to about things inside his head. It helped that Eric was knowledgeable in all things medical with him and that he cared enough to make sure Hudson wasn't passed out on the floor at the foot of the toilet. One more trip to the bathroom before they both settled back on the couch and Hudson was ready to lay stretched out on the cushions, giving Eric some space to crawl in behind him as he brought up the ottoman to prop his leg on.

As they got Hudson's leg settled, Eric climbed in behind Hudson and placed himself a little higher on the pillow under their heads. He knew he had to take this whole night with a grain of salt. Hudson must be feeling grateful for his presence and his ability to stay calm and organized in a traumatic setting. The added dosage of narcotics also put a spin on things that Eric didn't even want to think about, because he knew Hudson could forget _this_ even happened, intentionally, or just blocking it out totally when sober and not hopped on pain medicines. Tucking his right arm to his chest, between his front and Hudson's back, Eric brought up his left arm and let it dangle over and around Hudson's body. He was mostly keeping Hudson from rolling off the couch.

They had placed the comforter over their combined body warmth and it was now getting more comfortable beneath the goose-down material. With the television still playing, Eric settled his head onto the back of Hudson's, his lids getting drowsy as he attempted to pay attention to the movie playing on screen. He tried to keep himself awake, rubbing and soothing up and down Hudson's side, along his arm and fiddling with his limp fingers, but soon he was huddling his face behind Hudson's nape and burying himself deep as he fell into slumber.

Eric woke up to being completely under Hudson's body weight. It wasn't heavy or burdensome; it was more pleasant than he'd felt in a long time. He was turned, with his back on the cushions now, Hudson was plastered to his chest, laying low along his body. Eric's right leg had been bent and drawn up, holding the turn of Hudson's form as he had nearly fallen off the side. The sudden shock of sunlight coming through the lengthy blinds over the windows caused Eric to wake up and be unable to fall back asleep. He could only throw an arm over his eyes, which he did. His other hand began to caress over Hudson's back, fingers absently pulling at the material of the tank-t and lightly scratching over soft skin.

Hudson started to flutter awake as well. He immediately sent his arms around and pulled close the shape that lay under him, or whatever he lay upon, and discovered how solid and warm the thing was. He lifted only his head to squint up at the familiar face. “Eric?” He didn't know why he was startled to realize Eric was still here. He probably made it difficult to leave when he decided to use Eric's body as his own personal mattress. He was laying all over and tangled about Eric's body and limbs; Eric didn't seem to mind. Suddenly, Hudson had the urge to show his appreciation in another way. He climbed up Eric's frame and press a soft kiss to the lips he could still see, though most of the face was hidden by an arm.

Eric fidgeted as if he was being awoken; he was just shocked by the feel of warm lips against his own. He removed his arm to find Hudson propped above him, and had to swallow down the mucus choking his throat from speaking. “—how do you feel?” He didn't know why but he lifted a hand to cup the side of Hudson's face, feeling beard burn and how temperate the flesh was under his palm. He let his thumb trace under the bow of the bottom lip. God, he silently marveled at how strikingly gorgeous Hudson was with sunlight backing him.

“Good.” Hudson nodded his head as he let his eyes drop to Eric's body beneath him. He tried not to raise his eyes and look at what might be in Eric's eyes gazing back at him. Thankfully, Hudson could keep his semi-erectness in hiding from Eric, but he could feel something building in Eric's groin against his body. “You should've kicked me off and escaped early this morning.” He laughed lightly. “I'm a heavy sleeper... an' I probably weigh a ton on you.” Hudson attempted to remove himself off of Eric, but Eric kept that bent leg around him, holding him in place.

“No, don't. Just lay here and relax. You don't have anywhere to go today and... I don't start my shift until late this afternoon.”

Hudson slowly nodded his head in agreement, going back to resting his cheek on Eric's chest and easing his body into a comfortable position again. He couldn't recall the last time he simply stayed in bed doing nothing but sharing silence and a sense of peace. Or at least a moment like this that hadn't been preceded by several rounds of hot, dirty sex. He let the feel of Eric's even breathing and the slight increase of his heart relax him back into light slumber.

Eric curled his right arm about Hudson's head on his chest, leaning down awkwardly to press his lips against the smooth skin. He was trying to get more time to work his body out of its want of Hudson; he didn't want it to be a one night stand. One fuck and he wouldn't see or hear from Hudson again. That was the problem. Eric wanted to see Hudson more than once; he was afraid he even wanted to think about some kind of relationship with him. He knew he had to give it time, but how much time Hudson had here in Pittsburgh was the real question. Eric hoped he'd be given a chance to find out.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian was already awake when he answered his cell phone's ring. He recognized Hudson's number on the LCD screen, then spoke accordingly. “—'lo?”

“It's time.” Hudson had told Brian he would contact him the morning of the exact day he chose to finally meet Michael. The minor setback of his knee had given Brian a sense of comfort and Hudson thought, if Brian had wanted to renege on his offer, this would've been the time to speak out. When he heard nothing in reply, Hudson assumed it was a bad connection, or Brian was preoccupied with someone. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes!... yes... I heard you— _fuck_!” Brian had been grateful for the slight reprieve, but knew the inevitable would happen. He didn't know why he had let time pass so quickly without changing his mind, even though he and Michael appeared to have gotten back on track with their friendship. Maybe it was because Michael was still keeping a part of himself locked away, refusing to discuss his decision or let Brian influence him directly. Brian still had to watch Michael with other men, but at least he knew Michael was not about to go through with a real random night of sex. This was why Brian had been making many of their nights together ones where they were alone, like dinner and a movie or the reverse.

“It'll happen tonight. Babylon.”

Brian was startled back into reality, forgetting he was still on the phone, Hudson on the other end of the line.

“I'm giving you fair warning.” Hudson was thoughtful enough to give Brian even more time to rethink, but also for himself. He had the power to control the moment; he would have some extra time to spend with Eric today that could ultimately change his mind forever.

“... thanks... I guess...” Brian didn't like to be played with, didn't appreciate Hudson thinking he knew him better than he knew himself. He couldn't deny that Hudson was being overtly fair, even though he was completely off about Brian's feelings and the way he felt about Michael. “I'll see you if I see you.” He clicked off curtly, hating the fact that just by acting that way he had, yet again, proved to Hudson that his keen assumptions had been right. He gripped the phone tight in his palm, then proceeded to take his left arm and sweep everything off the countertop onto the floor, including the cup of coffee he'd spent ten minutes waiting for.

Brian walked out of the kitchen the other way from the mess he'd made as he stormed out to head back to his bedroom. He had to take a quick shower and dress for work so he could make it to Michael's before he woke up. Brian didn't know what he expected to accomplish, but he planned on doing his damnedest to change Michael's mind about hitting the clubs tonight.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Hudson lay back on the pillows, against the headboard, having thrown away his cell phone in the distance. Crossing one arm over his mid-section, he stared down at the brace on his knee as he had propped the limb on a collection of smaller pillows. It had been suggested that when Hudson slept that he keep his knee joint immobilized, for now, as he tended to roll all over the place at night, while sleeping.

Normally, it wouldn't be an issue, since having another body beside him in bed would put a stop to the fidgeting. Except Hudson had put himself on a strict “timeout” sexually, and no amount of masturbation or self-play alleviated his want—his _need_ —to feel another man's body, another's skin against his skin. Hudson could tell he was reaching a breaking point the more time he spent in Eric's company.

It was becoming tougher to deny what he felt for Eric. What was difficult was deciphering if this was simply raging hormones or was he actually starting to care for him, enjoying having Eric around? Hudson knew of a perfect way to be sure, but the possibility of scaring Eric away stopped him cold. He was thankful that Eric had a large amount of self-control. A time or two, Hudson had noticed Eric's heightened arousal and knowing that Eric was suppressing the same feelings he was put things in a whole new bracket.

Looking at the time, Hudson knew if he didn't climb out of bed now, get a shower in and dress to head downstairs to eat some breakfast, Eric might arrive— _out-of-the-blue, again—_ and drag him out of bed to begin the day. Hudson had made the unfortunate choice, over the weekend, to remain slumbering on and off until Eric's eventual arrival, and he vowed never to make that same mistake again as long as Eric Vaughn was taking care of his physical therapy.

He had to smile, though, because even when Eric was being tough on him there were moments of such tenderness and patience shining through. Hudson thrived on those particular times because he knew that was the _real_ Eric, the one he was growing to like the more time they spent in one another's company.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian found the spare key hidden on the porch, letting himself into Michael's home as he wiped feet on the heavy foyer rug. He wandered out into the living room, startling a bit to find Michael fully awake and not only making coffee, but also his own breakfast. Brian slipped out of his suit jacket, draping the material over the bottom post of the stairwell.

Without even glancing up, Michael's voice could be heard asking, “How would you like your eggs?”

Brian peeked around the entry-way molding of the kitchen. “Over easy. Two toast.” He cleared his throat as he went from looking at Michael to gazing down at the tile flooring. “How did you know it was me?”

Michael gestured out the cut-away, toward the huge living room window. “You are the only one I know who drives a Corvette Stingray.”

Brian strolled over to Michael and pet the back of his head, then bussed a quick kiss on the hairline. He was off to grab a large mug of coffee. “Do you buy creamer?”

“There's milk, if you like.” Michael's eyes went wide with confusion as he witnessed Brian pour sugar into his cup. “I only have the powdered kind.”

“No, no. That'll do.” Brian had pulled down the creamer canister, from the cabinet, then went about putting one or two scoops in.

Michael found Brian's fidgeting rather off-putting. “What's wrong?”

“huh?”

“You never have cream, or sugar, with your coffee.” Michael gestured to everything Brian had just done to doctor his coffee into tasting like something else.

“I quit smoking,” Brian barked out the lame excuse, but mostly to explain away his quick, shaky movements that made him seem suspect.

“Really!? You did?!” Michael turned to lean back on the counter with excitement in his face and body. “That's great!!” He hadn't wanted to nag Brian to quit, but he had meant to ask him to stop smoking around Jenny.

“mmm, I need all the stimulants I can get.” Brian stretched out his hands, noticing a slight tremor. “I get the shakes at times I would have normally puffed on a ciggie.”

“I'm proud of you.” Michael meant that sincerely, but he didn't run over to Brian and embrace him or smooth a hand over his back. He spoke from that great distance, and simply tended to the eggs on the stove, “No wonder you've been so jittery.”

Brian was stirring his coffee, witnessing it turn into some murky mocha-colored concoction. “It goes away once I'm rested and calm.” He wondered why Michael was still so far away; he had heard the pleasing tones to Michael's voice, but the action didn't match. Granted there was food not to be burned, but _still_. It didn't take but a few seconds to run over, hug and kiss, then run back. _Jesus..._

Michael smiled to himself because he had been noticing certain mannerisms of Brian's lately. When it was them _with a group_ , Brian ping-ed back and forth, like he was on edge. Usually, Michael didn't stick around long enough to watch Brian exit with a conquest, but he was sure that Brian hadn't “calmed down” a whole lot. When it was simply _them_ , like the old Brian and Mikey, Michael could almost tell the very second Brian settled down. He got a sick thrill, hoping he was one of the reasons Brian sought him out so much these days.

Brian noticed the tiny smile Michael couldn't prevent from spreading over his face. “Is there something you'd like to share?”

“hmm?” Michael only raised one dark eyebrow in question.

Brian picked up the mug, ceramic to his lips as he blew over the steam rising. “Besides the goofy grinning, you've been awfully quiet, and contemplative, this morning.”

“I, uh.” Michael was a little stunned to discover Brian had been watching him _that_ closely to notice. “I'm thinking.”

“About?” Brian took a tentative sip of the coffee, but tried to prepare himself for the liquid to be rather inedible. He watched Michael scoop out the eggs for himself with a fork, then turn to a second pan to slide the other eggs off the non-stick coating to the plate surface.

“Many things.” Michael turned off a burner and carried the two plates to the table; one with scrambled eggs, the other with over-easy.

Brian trailed behind with his mug in one hand and two stacked plates in the other; the toast and sausages links. They sat down across from one another, neither wanting the head chair. Michael handed Brian his plate then went back to the kitchen for the pitcher of fresh orange juice; the empty glasses were already at the table.

Brian shook out the linen napkin to cover his lap. “Any 'thing' in particular?” He unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling them up, backward, to just below his elbow joints.

Michael stood next to the table to stretch out his hand for Brian's glass, filled it to the brim, then picked up a smaller glass for himself. “What do you _think_ you know?” He put the carafe of juice down, behind him on a small, long table against the wall, where he could reach it.

Brian softly chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of coffee again. It really wasn't as awful a taste as he had once feared. “I don't even get a sneak peek?” He shook his head, dipping a piece of toast into the running yolk. “You used to tell me everything.” He chomped down on the soaked bread, his eyes darting across to Michael as he watched him eat his food quietly.

“No, not every- _thing_.”

“Well—” Brian began to munch on a sausage link, letting it stick out of his mouth like a cigarette butt. “—you're more closed-off than usual.” He grabbed the end of the link to eat the rest, piece by slow piece. “I have to hear it from Schmidt that there could be some new, hot piece of ass in your life. Ready to take Bruckner's place, I suppose.” Brian mumbled that last bit, not expecting any reaction from Michael. It was rare now that Michael reacted to any mention of Ben.

“Who do you mean?” Michael sat back, his brow furrowing in confusion as he wiped his hands on a linen napkin.

Brian raised a pretend curious eyebrow. “There's more than one?”

“I had no idea there was even a 'first'.” Michael would expect Brian to talk to Ted, but he didn't think there was ever enough time in the office for idle gossiping. Nor would Brian pay attention to that kind of conversation. “Whom did Teddy mention to you?”

Now Brian felt trapped in his own finagled conversation. “uhm... eh, to be fair, he was gossiping around the water cooler, with Cynthia.” That sounded plausible enough, and it was sometimes true that he would stumble upon Ted and Cynthia chattering away like two teenager schoolgirls in the halls of their high school. “I was merely walking in when I thought everyone had left the office.” Brian took a long swallow of orange juice. “Wasn't his name 'Eric'?”

“Eric?” Michael let out a loud chuckle, shaking his head. “You think I'm _dating Eric_?” He didn't know why he found it so hilarious, maybe because Eric would also find it utterly comical.

“You're not?” Brian found it hard to believe there was only a simple “friendship” between them. Not with what he knew he and Michael had been doing together almost twenty years.

“Eric is a really good friend, Brian.” Michael sounded offended that Brian would even think he could repeat what _they had_ with Eric. _With anyone_ , mind you. It was hard enough to maintain what he had with Brian; he couldn't even fathom wanting to run out and mimic this type of relationship with someone else. Even if it was Eric.

“—an' that makes him a terrible prospective, new boyfriend?” Brian had thought Michael liked Eric, that he would consider him great “relationship” material. Or, at the very least, replace the missing spot of a “husband” to his happy-homo life.

“No. It simply means, yet again, you never listen to me.” Michael threw his napkin over his half-eaten plate of food, picking up a slice of toast to munch on. “I told you already that I'm not doing that to myself. I'm done with being the ' _little brother_ ' or the ' _cute, naïve boy-toy next door_ '.” He got tired of how dry the bread tasted, since he hadn't coated it with butter or jelly, then threw it on the plate. “I'm not gonna subject myself to waiting around for some man to feel about me the way I feel about them.”

“ ** _Them?!?_** ” Brian nearly choked on the use of the plural pronoun.

“ ** _Him!!_** Jesus!” Michael groaned out as he twisted his head from side to side, putting fingers to his temples as if he felt a headache creeping on him. “Give my use of pronouns a break. It's a collective, not a specific.”

“I get it, I do. But you're not doing yourself any favors by continuing to hang out—hang onto—your little band of gay conspirators.” Brian didn't know what to call Ted and Emmett when they got that fire in their eyes to keep pushing Michael toward _other_ men, when they knew how Michael was about meeting strange men in bars and clubs.

“Not even if they help me 'score'?” Michael understand Brian's anger; it was warranted. Many nights he had witness the continual failures of Ted and Emmett's penchant for fixing him up with random men, whenever they went out. He didn't mind it so much, in years past, but things were getting a little wearing these days when it seemed like neither of them thought Michael had an inkling of common sense when it came to picking good men.

“Score? What do you mean? You've never let Frick & Frack 'fix you up' before.” Brian had meant on a date, one that took them outside in real life. Michael had never allowed his friends to be that controlling of his life. Which was why Brian knew he couldn't make it obvious he was doing that very thing with Hudson. “And I know you'd never trust them to know exactly what you would want in a lover.” It was scary to think that he could somehow fathom _he_ would know either, but it wouldn't hurt to try, if Michael didn't know it was his doing in the first place. “A one night stand or whatever it is you're looking for.”

“They didn't help me, actually. Not like you think.” Michael stuck his tongue into the side of cheek, wishing he felt comfortable enough to tell Brian all the details, like he would typically do. He simply didn't want Brian to ruin a good thing, or rain all over his gay parade. “But I did meet **_him_** when I was out with them.” Michael met the man at the gym, if that wasn't too clichéd. And it was a great-looking man who showed an interest unmatched since—well, since forever, it felt like.

“Eric too?” It irked Brian to think of Eric taking his place at Michael's side. He didn't know if it bothered him more that Eric was falling so easily into his old “best friend” slot or that Hudson had done too good of a job making a first impression on Michael. _Oh, Lord... give him strength..._

“No. Stop being a baby. Eric's a great guy, if you'd quit second guessing him and not dislike him on the spot, get to know him a little better.”

Brian sat back against the rungs of his chair, settling his arms down to rest on his thighs, hands curling around one another into one big fist. “oh, I'll admit he's pretty to look at, has a good body.” He blinked slowly, only because he would've been all over that ass if Michael hadn't snagged him first. And he probably would've been done and thrown away the number as quickly as they'd finished fucking. Brian really didn't need another “Michael” in his life. “But I just don't see the attraction for you.” Just like he hadn't understood the exact reason for Michael being with, and then staying with, Bruckner. Neither man seemed like Michael's “type”; Brian didn't even know if Michael had a certain flavor of male flesh he liked. David and Benjamin were like night and day.

“Then I won't be inviting you out tonight. You can go on your own.”

“Why? You finally ready to take the plunge with Mr. Right-Now?” Brian needed to watch his tone or Michael would become overly defensive and possibly leave the room.

“Have you not been hearing a word I've said?” Michael tilted his head in an odd sense of curiosity. Sometimes he wondered if he spoke a whole different language than Brian these days. Or maybe they hadn't been able to talk to one another for a long time, if ever.

“oh, yeah. You talk a good talk, but I have yet to see you **_do_** , Michael,” Brian only snapped back because Michael's voice was sounding a bit too much like his mother's. Last thing he wanted was to feel like he was arguing with the spirit of Debbie Novotny. She was bad enough in the flesh.

“You think I'm a liar? That this is all just some sadistic game for me?”

“I don't know what to think. You seclude yourself right after Ben leaves. You come out guns blazing with this huge ego, declaring you're ' _tired of waiting_ '... you'll ' _go out and get what you want, when you want, from whomever you want_ '. You're out there, but you've rejected every single interested male. Then you disappear again, for God knows where, and come back with a mini— _younger—_ Bruckner in tow.”

Michael kept his mouth shut, his fists tight to his thighs. He was being called out for exactly what he had done; Brian wasn't lying, about anything. Well, except _one_ thing.

“—so— **no**. It isn't fuckin' clear to me what they hell you're doing, because whatever comes out of your mouth contradicts every action you end up doing.”

“Well, thanks for that.” Michael stood, pushing back his chair and bracing his hands on the table ledge to stand. “You'll be pleased to know this will change tonight.” He went to walk around the table, about to run up the staircase, but Brian reached out to snatch his arm, strong and tight.

“Whoa!... wait-don't—” Brian shook his head at his own stupidity. Michael had no idea Brian had walked into his peaceful home already knowing what was in store tonight. He swiveled in his seat to throw a leg over a knee, his hand smoothly sloping down to latch around the wrist and periodically brush the dangling fingers. He shut his lids, sighing heavily. “I'm sorry. That was unfair to attack you like that, out of the blue.”

Michael turned his head toward Brian, his eyes wide and perplexed, a bit confounded. “Anytime I say one thing, you automatically think the worst.” He tried to straighten his spine so he didn't slouch. He wanted to stand tall as he took a stand for himself. “It gets to be so I can't tell you a thing without you throwing your unwanted opinion, and your bad advice, at my face. As if I wasn't a 'man' at all.” He hated that he sighed after he said the words, only because it made him look weaker. Like he'd crumble if Brian pitched another fit at him.

“Michael...” Brian exhaled on a short laugh. “—c'mon, I hardly think—” This time he rose out of his chair to stand beside Michael. What disturbed him was Michael averting his head, eyes gazing at the floor. He knew he could be harsh with his words, but had he really been _that_ tough on Michael? He moved to stand in front of him, grabbing on to dangling, limp forearms. “Tell me I don't make you feel emasculated? Less than the man I know you are?”

Michael slowly pulled back, easing his arms out of Brian's grip. He crossed them behind his back, for now. “No, not all the time.” He didn't dare lift his chin too high, too proudly, as he backed away a few inches on the floor. “But you don't make me feel good about the choices _I_ ** _have_** made.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hey, I may have made mistakes, but at least I took a chance and made them.” Michael shook his head, bending chin to chest as he walked around Brian to head upstairs as he muttered, “It's more than you've ever done.”

Brian had folded his arms as he kept staring ahead, letting Michael's words sink into his brain. Though every single comment Michael had been making this past year was troublesome and confusing, Brian couldn't help but feel that they were mostly for _his_ benefit. Of course some were vague and the pronouns switched to not be too specific, but with some doctoring they could easily be changed to mean specifically for Brian. None had hit harder than this last one. It was two-fold.

It struck upon Justin. How Michael saw the situation more of Brian feeling a sense of duty and responsibility than a genuine feeling of love and affection. Maybe he had felt something akin in his heart, but it wasn't long-lasting. Nor was it because he had a need to care for the young man. With as much distance as a year gave him, Brian understood, more and more, he shouldn't have proposed. They would have been miserable fucks, regretting every second the dreams they had both killed in one another.

The other factor Michael's comment touched upon was actually between them—he and Brian. Yeah, Michael had taken several chances at love, romance and monogamy. Brian had bolted in the opposite direction like a child being frightened by the monster under his bed. All those years wasted, and when Brian became desperate, at the last minute, wanting to be mature and responsible, it failed—he failed. He made his change in behavior too sudden and for all the wrong reasons.

Brian wished he could rage or pound something, but Michael was right. All this talk and bravado, how boastful he was when he learned how quickly Ben had exited Michael's life. He should've held off on the joyous “I Told You So”-s, but he hadn't. He almost couldn't, because he knew there was something untrustworthy about Bruckner and he was tired of being told how great, fabulous and wonderful the Professor always was. He knew he had been right, but he didn't like suffering in the aftermath of everyone else's disillusionment.

Ben was able to escape, while Brian watched everybody he knew, who had once praised Ben, suddenly turn cold and wish him bad thoughts. The worst was watching Michael shut down and go numb, quiet – as if Ben had truly died. Instead, he had killed a part of Michael that still remained hopeful and innocent. Michael wasn't done with love, he was just over men who made him empty promises and mirrored this dream-like, fantastical romantic love that he now knew was impossible to find and maintain. No one felt emotions like Michael and he had come to terms that he would never find his equal.

Brian didn't know why, but he cleaned off the dining table, carrying dishes and food back to the kitchen. He glanced at the time, seeing that his office hours were creeping up on him. He would fix up the kitchen into some kind of order, then see if Michael would return downstairs. It wasn't until he tucked the end of his tie through his shirt buttons that Brian began to wonder if Michael had to go into work today or if it was his day off.

Jesus, that was how out of touch they were with one another. Once he was done scrubbing down counters and filling the sink with dirty dishes, Brian would go in search of a visible work schedule to glance over.  
  
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 **~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


	7. Chapter 7

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Hudson did his stretches off the flight of steps from the porch to the semi-circular drive. The hinged brace worked best for his run in the mornings, which he was about to do, until he saw the headlights pop out of the low-laying fog. He narrowed his eyes to discover Eric was arriving early, and without calling ahead. He frowned a little, jogging over to the driver side door.

Hudson opened the paneling for Eric once the engine was shut off. “Did I forget we changed our appointment?”

“No.” Eric slid down out of the seat, bouncing onto the black-tar driveway. He was wearing one of his clothing line's track suits with a pair of running shorts beneath. He eyed Hudson in the long-sleeved Henley and cargo shorts. “Aren't you cold?” He shut the driver door to move to the back passenger seat to pull out his workout equipment bags and the other essentials he typically brought with him.

“A little.” Hudson folded his arms over his chest, hands grappling for his flexing biceps. “But I always overheat when I run. I'll be warm in fifteen minutes, or so.” He was curious to the tone of Eric's voice, because it didn't have the usual tinge of tactfulness.

“mmm...” Eric frowned, only because he was a stickler for conscious care when it came to exercising. He had already pissed off Hudson a few times when he tried to correct him or show him a better way to workout. “Would you mind some company on your run?”

“uh...” Hudson didn't want to say “no”, but he ran quite a few miles and at varied paces from most people. Plus, he liked using his iPod to get into a “zone” and not have to talk to anyone around. He had always run on his own, never had a partner to run with. “—uh, yeah... sure.”

Eric had to chuckle at Hudson's hesitation to accept his presence. He put his hand out in his own defense. “Look, I have my own iPod. I won't be bothering you. I, also, know you like to do a lot of your workout on your own. I'll be, like, ten paces behind you.”

“This is your way of checking out my ass, isn't it?” As a tease, Hudson narrowed his eyes toward Eric, looking as if he was suspicious of his methods. “You're _flirting_ with me.”

“Oh, baby...” Eric laughed out loud, shaking his head in stern denial. “I won't be checking out your ass, if I can help it. And, trust me...” He neared Hudson, with his chest jutting forward in mild superiority, like he wasn't affected by the mere presence of Hudson. “—I have better moments to choose to flirt with you, _if_ I want.” He feigned being peeved, but it did hurt for anyone to think he would use his profession simply to score a good lay. “You know how serious I take this shit.”

Hudson held back his smile, only because he didn't want to give away the fact he liked knowing Eric could slyly watch him or one day flirt with him because he knew he could. “I know, man. I like hearing you adamantly deny enjoying my body. Or how it looks ahead of you, from a distance.” He took one of the bags from Eric and walked him up the porch, through the front door. They dropped the bags off; Hudson watched Eric unzip one of the duffel bags to take out a water bottle. He knew Eric would fill the bottle in his kitchen, then ask if he had his own supply. This time, Hudson snatched the bottle, telling Eric to stretch a bit while he filled their bottles; he now had to locate one in his own kitchen to carry out the task.

Eric was a little shocked, and then pleased, because he knew it wouldn't be long before Hudson did these minor things naturally. He went to use the bottom three steps of the winding staircase to do leg and thigh stretches, but most of them were done standing in one spot on the cold marble flooring. He took out his iPod Nano, with a stretchy arm band, putting in the ear buds and zipped out of his jacket as he slipped off one sleeve. He ran the chord up his arm and over his shoulder as he tucked back in the sleeve. Hudson returned with a similar water bottle for himself, handing Eric his own. He was a bit sad to notice Eric was already into his own “music zone”, wishing they could have said a few words before the run.

Hudson put his ear buds in, having clipped his iPod to his waist band, running his extension chord along his chest, coming out of his Henley's sloped collar. Eric strolled out the door first, waiting for Hudson to lock the house and take a big head start. Before Hudson ran down the steps, he cupped Eric's right side and pat the area of well-toned muscle to tell him he was off; Eric could follow. Eric paused to see Hudson reach the end of the driveway, turning the corner out of sight, before he began running. He kept at a slower, tight and steady pace, whereas— _ahead of him—_ Hudson ran like he was being chased by a cavalcade of police cruisers. Eric shook his head because he also knew how far Hudson liked to run and by the time he would reach the destination to turn around Hudson's heart would be racing, he would be sweating profusely and he would be too exhausted to run at the exact same pace. Not to mention the terrible strain Hudson was putting on that injured knee.

About halfway through the run, Hudson looked over his shoulder and he felt like Eric had fallen back much-too far. He felt... awful, and rude. He thought he might be acting like an idiot, and a showoff, so he turned to run backwards. He caught Eric's attention, smiled and waved—Eric appeared stoic and unemotional from so far away. There was only a small lift of fingers to say “hi” back. Hudson stopped and ran in place until Eric reached him.

Eric tugged out one ear bud, wrinkling his brow with concern. “You okay?”

Hudson marveled that as overly-dressed as Eric was, he barely perspired and there was a light sheen of moisture over the skin of his face and neck. He wasn't even out of breath. Hudson nodded his head, letting Eric pass him, then started to run at a similar speed. What amazed Hudson was how long Eric's stride was, like a Thoroughbred racing horse; how his upper torso and arms flexed, pumping as if in tune with the rest of his body. He was perfect symmetry in motion. Hudson found himself having to change his breathing pattern, the sweep of his arms and how much force it took to pound one foot on the ground and spring up through his calves and thighs. The shift was subtle, but it made a drastic change in his overall outcome once they reached the end mark, where Hudson would rest, shake out the cramps and take in the fresh, crisp morning air. The fog had lifted by now, the sun out in full force. Hudson stretched fully on the park bench, while he watched Eric pace back and forth in front of him, then move to sit on the cut grass.

Hudson yanked out both ear buds, pausing his music. “I mus' seem like an utter fool to you.” He shook his head, almost instantly apologetic.

Eric loved Hudson's self deprecating humor. _A guy so beautiful who saw nothing but flaws?_ It was like his DreamMate made in the flesh. “hehehe... it's okay. You're just like most people who think how fast and hard you run means you'll be fitter.” He kept moving, though seated, working out the kinks in his muscles and joints as he began to regulate his breathing. “It's taken me years of schooling to learn what makes our bodies— _my body—_ work, what's key for us to get the best exercise we can.”

“I'm sorry I keep making you feel like you're only bossin' me around. I should trust you more to know what's best.” Hudson shaped his hand around his kneecap. “My doctor thinks you've done wonders with my knee.”

“It's not _all_ me. Most of it is _you_ maintaining what **_I_** teach you.” Eric stood to wander over and squat down in front of Hudson. “You can begin running without the brace, if you feel up to it.” He went to take off the heavy brace, then proceeded to do a small massage of the red, inflamed skin.

“I think I've scared myself.” Hudson looked from Eric's fingers to the concentration of his face. “I fear any tiny, wrong movement will drop me like the last time.”

“And if it does?”

“I don't know. I would hope that I'm not alone.”

Eric swallowed with some difficulty. “Me too.” He had been just as scared as Hudson. The image of him laying flat and unmoving on the parking lot pavement kept rewinding in his mind. He pushed off the ground with the brace in his hand, moving Hudson over to sit down. Hudson simply fell back to lean heavily on Eric.

“Is it too late for me to request a piggyback ride to the house?”

Eric snickered, elbowing Hudson to sit upright and stop slouching; he wasn't doing his back any good and he was making it more difficult to catch a breath again. He could still detect the pulse along Hudson's neck which directly correlated to his heart rate. Eric would pretend _he_ needed more rest, covering for Hudson's lack of sense. When they were ready to rise, run back to the house, this time Hudson let Eric lead and kept pace with him. Hudson had his ear buds in but he forgot to turn off the “pause” on his iPod. Instead, he let Eric's steady puffs of breath keep him focused and in his typical “zone”. It was funny how Hudson could clearly detect a beat, so much that he almost wanted to plug into Eric's music.

They went one block further down to pick up the other driveway entrance, but Hudson also found Eric was doing this on purpose to head to the rear portion of his car. He had taken out his keys, pushed the tailgate lift button to raise it as he approached and then dipped inside to pull out, then toss a large blue ball toward Hudson. Hudson completely missed the easy catch and had to go chasing after the enormous exercise ball as it rolled away, across the well-manicured lawn. Eric knew it would make hours of enjoyment for Hudson, who often showed what a true kid-at-heart he could be. It didn't take Hudson long before he turned the huge ball into a basketball, dribbling the rubberized plastic on his way back to Eric.

“Need some help?” Hudson eyed Eric dragging down a long, thick cardboard box that obviously had something new and very expensive inside. There was a foreign language on the side facing him, depicting an image of a lengthy table. “You got me a 'table'?”

Eric chuckled as he handed Hudson the two bags of accessories he had purchased along with the massage table. “Well, sort of.” He leaned the box along the bed of the bumper, slamming the tailgate closed. “I got you— _us—_ a professional massage table.” He cleared his throat as he swiped his palms together and locked up the car. “I thought we could put it in that small space, near the exercise room. It has nice light, a great spacial dimension.”

Hudson stopped immediately, not sure he liked knowing Eric had been dodging him to run around the house to take measurements of several rooms. It wasn't an invasion of privacy as much as this fear of Eric becoming too close—too important to his life. Not right now. He couldn't deal with this right now.

Eric tapped the corner of the elongated box, which now leaned against his legs. “This'll fit _perfectly_.” He unzipped out of his track suit jacket, tying the arms about his waist. “Means I won't have to crouch anymore, to massage you on the floor mats, and you can stay shame-free from me continually thinking of invading your bedroom.” There were plenty of other bedrooms to choose from, but the thought of messing those pristinely kept rooms didn't strike Eric as possible. At least in Hudson's bedroom, he knew it would, probably, look more lived-in and Hudson would become less anxious.

Hudson cringed, thinking he had apologized enough for that cruel outburst weeks ago. “It's not an invasion as much as I just like to have, uh... boundaries.”

Eric snickered, nodding his head in agreement. He understood, he really did; he only liked teasing Hudson for turning into such a mini-raging tyrant. “I get it. I do. You have made up enough for nearly biting my head off.” He started walking alongside Hudson, who kept stopping to peek at him, lugging the long cardboard box with him. “What?”

“It looks heavy.”

“It isn't.” Eric was carrying the box by the thick plastic handles, positioned at the right places to be evenly distributed. “It's in several pieces, so I'll be spending the rest of the morning putting the table together.” Or he was going to try to be keep his frustrations in check in order to follow the instructions in Swedish. Thank God they also came in a pictorial diagram too.

This particular comment didn't sit well with Hudson. It was simply because he felt like an utter chump. Not only were the lies growing heavy as they piled up, but having Eric do so much for him, when he didn't know him that well was getting to Hudson. “Okay... _wait... wait..._ ” He blocked Eric's path, setting the bags down and awkwardly held the exercise ball to the front of his body.

“huh?” Eric had to bite at his lips to keep from laughing because right now all he could see was Hudson as a little boy, with a red kickball, trying to be manly and pushy, intimidating Eric to playing fair. The situation was much more comical when it was a rather large, very blue exercise ball.

“I'm not sure what's going on here. With you and I—”

“What do you mean?” Eric tilted his head in confusion. “Is this another 'boundary' issue?”

“No!” Hudson put out a hand to ward off the possibility he was going to do something stupid. “Well, kinda... look, I'm old enough, and experienced enough, to know that most people don't do what you do an' expect _nothing_ in return.”

Eric went still, unmoving. “You think I do this to get _something_ from you?”

“I don't know. Do you?”

“—uh, hmm...” Eric let out an uncomfortable laugh, not expecting Hudson to come at him like this, like he actually feared Eric reading too much into their relationship. It was only strange because Hudson constantly joked, and teased, about flirting and checking out his ass. “I pride myself on being a consummate professional. I may have been gone from the personal training world for a few years, but this isn't unlike what I would normally do for any of my clients.”

Somehow Eric using that particular word caused Hudson to swallow hard, and rethink what he had just said, the random thoughts in his head. He suddenly realized that Eric's work wasn't too different from his own career. Of course there was the obvious difference of sex being involved, but at the core... Eric and Hudson always went that extra mile to please their customers, and give them a sense of enjoyment and entitlement. No matter what it may cost to them. As Hudson watched Eric's mouth move, with words coming out and his hands flying about wildly, he began to learn that his liking of Eric Vaughn was casually shifting, molding into something else entirely. To witness Eric speak with such passion about what he did, to watch him defend his typical practice... Hudson started to admire him immensely. To have that much pride and faith in your abilities— _your natural born talents—_ above any other, Hudson was touched he was being given the opportunity to know someone like Eric, be a part of his world for a short time.

When Eric had quieted down, hands on his hips and finally out of breath, Hudson smiled, hanging his head. “I did it again, didn't I?”

“Maybe. I don't know.” Eric wasn't pissed at Hudson as much as he was at himself.

“I'll make it up to you. I'll cook you breakfast, or lunch.” Hudson figured that soon Eric would grow exhausted from the constant bickering, and the long list of apologies coming at him in the aftermath. He was finding it difficult to find ways of making it up to Eric, so he didn't think he was total dickhead. “I'll even loan you a bathing suit so you can swim with me, do some laps in the pool.”

“Hudson...” Eric smoothed a hand over his forehead, hating that with one dejected look and a low timbered voice, Hudson could reduce him to a need to apologize for standing up _for himself_. It was infuriating, but he found he actually liked this type of exchange. Not only was he learning Hudson wasn't predator, or prey, and simply out for sex, Eric was becoming more confident in his career choice. That it wasn't a fluke and he had real passion for what he could do.

“I know.” Hudson pointed both index fingers to his face. “Don't let this pretty face fool you. I can still be a huge asshole.”

That— _right there—_ killed Eric and not only caused him to laugh out loud, but to also feel his heart expand. It nearly ached with want, and not simply sexually. He wanted what he had with his Ex those first few “honeymoon” years of their relationship. And he didn't think he would ever feel that way again about another man, or feel the sensation so soon after his break-up. Eric feared this could be a rebound attempt, and he didn't want _that_ with Hudson. He couldn't take the chance of ruining the one good thing he had going for himself.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Michael made it out of the bedroom and down the stairs once he was dressed for work. It was a, somewhat, off day for him as he now he would be playing Red Cape CEO and travel to visit his other stores. At least one good thing had come out of Ben leaving, Michael learned to focus his energies where he had been neglecting and holding back. Being free of a loved one, who felt... _jealous_ of your success was like being set loose from a gilded cage. Without Brian's help, Michael had incorporated his comic book store and made it the local, small business greatness that it had become.

Selling RAGE's concept had given Michael the means, and money, to expand the original store and then branch Red Cape around Pittsburgh, even on Liberty Avenue. That storefront was fast becoming his second best investment, and quite possibly one of the hot spots along the Avenue where gay kids and teens could hang out safely. He had reached out to a few gay teen charities and worked with them for events, and sometimes employed many of their volunteers. It had been one of his proudest moments, which he finally felt that he actually deserved the award the GLBT community had gifted to him.

It was eerily quiet downstairs, like it had been with Ben. Half the time, Ben would have stormed out, leaving behind dirty dishes and cold food, not even bothering to apologize for his inexplicable outbursts. But then he would leave without his bicycle, taking a taxi and leaving for God knew where. Michael knew it hadn't been the college as an hour or so later the Dean's office would call, wondering if Ben was ill and would he be into work that day.

Michael had finally had enough when Ben almost put him through the wall and left some ridiculous hour of the morning, on his bike, his satchel and a small duffel bag filled with spare clothes. The following morning, Michael had the locks changed and added a few dead bolts to certain doors, in case Ben became creative and thought he had earned the right to step foot, without permission, back into Michael's home. From that moment on, Ben never returned, it was always contact through the phone; text messages or voice mails. Although, one day, Michael came home to find a strange woman on his doorstep; she said she was there for Ben's “things”, and was Michael able to help her carry the boxes she had brought to use in packing.

He had been silently stunned, prepared to confront Ben, but having to meet some stranger with dirty-blonde locks and Ben's exact eye color allowed Michael to discover that this would be as close as he would get to his ex-husband. She had to have been a sister, or a half-sister. Maybe a younger aunt... a cousin? Michael had never met or been told about any of Ben's immediate family, so how would he even know. It had taken four hours to pack everything and fill up her car. The last thing Michael handed over was the wedding ring, in case it had “value” to Ben. It was one of the final pieces to be rid of as the holes in the wall— _in the weird shape of Michael's head and right elbow—_ were the very last things to remind him of Ben.

Easing down the steps, one at a time, Michael could hear the dishwasher humming, the percolating coffee maker, and one last step showed him a view of Brian in the living room. He was pacing and sipping at a mug of coffee in his hand. He was coming dangerously close to the very shelving unit hiding Michael's real truth... and Michael crumbled, having to sit down on a stair and lean forward to catch his breath. He never knew how he would react to imagining the way Brian would respond to finding the cracked plaster.

Brian was quick to Michael's aide, placing down the mug before he sat on a lower step. He went from rubbing and tugging on Michael's dark Khakis to brushing through the freshly washed and styled hair. He thought Michael might be upset from earlier—their mini-spat. Brian didn't want to open with an apology, because he still believed what he said was true. He would have to play this moment pretty simple, in order to get back to Michael's good side. He started with the fact he didn't know if Michael had the day off from work, sliding into how he had cleared the table and started cleaning dishes, how the food was trashed or put back in the fridge. Brian was deep into this whole diatribe that he didn't notice Michael staring or the small grin forming on his face, not even the sensation of Michael cupping the back of his nape after slipping down through his hair.

Michael changed that tiny smile into a smirk, brought up his right hand to untuck the end of Brian's tie out from between two buttons of his suit shirt, then sloped upward to grab onto the knot at the throat. As Brian caught a breath and swallowed to continue, Michael leaned down while yanking Brian toward him, silencing Brian with a sound kiss on the mouth. Brian had to shut his eyes, putting his entire body into the kiss, the feel of Michael around him as he slid off the stair and straddled Brian's thighs, pushing him against the railings. Michael kept kissing Brian, sliding their noses and skimming their lips— _with the barest of touches—_ as his hands brushed lightly over Brian's face.

Michael settled his forearms on Brian's broad shoulders, fingers lost in honey-brown strands. Brian's arms were loosely balanced on either side of Michael's waist. Michael thought it was cute how Brian became shy, averting head and eyes. “Come out with me tonight. _Please_.” He wasn't about to beg, but he knew this was as good of a tactic to use against Brian. He fixed the knot of Brian's tie, patting the silk over the shirt buttons. “I'm BossMan today.” He spanned his hands along Brian's upper chest. “So if you need me, reach me by cell.”

“—'kay.”

“Thanks for—you know.” Michael gestured behind him, then placed his palms against Brian's rib cage as he climbed off his splayed legs. He cupped a cheek and gave Brian one final peck on the lips before he wandered away to leave out the front door.

Brian was left nearly spread-eagled on the last three steps; his mind was a jumble and his body kept humming sharply with want. He reached out to lay fingers over his lips to make sure they stopped trembling. He couldn't fathom where _that_ Michael had come from, the sudden sex-kitten who could take away the power of speech with one kiss. Well, several, but the first one had been the one to cut Brian off at the knees and render him useless. “ _Jesus-holychrist_.”

He had been too wrapped in worrying over Hudson's approach to Michael, and it was certain that his first impression had gone over Michael about as well as they could have hoped. Why else would Michael be eager for a night out? And want Brian to tag along, if only to torture him... relentlessly?

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Eric was manning the tools and tool box, handing off wrenches and pliers to Hudson as they learned quickly that not everything was packed inside the box to put the massage table together. _Some assembly required_ became a running taunt between them. In Swedish, it must mean— _pack a bag, kiss your family goodbye, because you'll be gone for several days, maybe weeks to put this item together_.

Thankfully, Eric and Hudson worked better as a team, with Hudson doing the “assembly” and Eric “supervising”. Eric had a short temper and a tendency to take his vexations out on the inanimate object he was trying to build. Hudson took over the manual work, hoping for a reprieve from hearing that rowdy collection of swear words pummeling the air, and twisting throughout the massive home.

Eric was still being apologetic, even an hour-n-a-half later. “I swear, my table was easier to put together, back at my gym in Philly. I don't know why this one is being so difficult.”

“It's okay. I didn't have much planned for the day.” Hudson kept taking side-long glances at Eric. “But you do owe me an extra hour in the pool.” He was under the massage table taking shape, while Eric lay on his left side a few inches away.

“As long as you give me a good therapy session, like earlier this week.”

“We'll see. I like you better with less of that 'drill sergeant' shrill to your tone,” Hudson stated as he started turning a loose bolt tight.

“Please. You can't mean to tell me that _that_ kind of 'push' doesn't motivate you to work harder.” Eric was slowly rolling onto his back, having picked up the other wrench Hudson had been using. “Otherwise, you'd be in bed, lazin' your ass away productive hours.”

“All right! Er-rick!” Hudson screeched out as if Eric had become a nagging wife.

“oh-kay!... Hud-Son!” Eric shot back in kind, with the same tone.

Hudson cleared his throat, playing around with stretching out his cramped fingers. “It's 'Sean', actually.”

“huh?” Eric only turned his head, staring hard as Hudson didn't look at him once after his statement. Then he flipped to roll back onto his left side, setting the wrench back down to where it had rested.

“The name I go by, in my regular life. Well, for family and close friends.” Hudson— _Sean—_ coughed into his hand and swallowed to mosey on in the conversation. “I have an uncle and a grandfather with the same name— _Hudson_. In order to be picked on less, and avoid confrontations, I asked to be called by my middle name, which is _Sean_. When I was old enough, out on my own, I had it legally changed to— _Sean Hudson Lyle_. Then, well, as luck would have it, having 'Hudson' as a first name caused people to remember me.” He cleared his throat of nervousness, unsure of whether it was a good idea to reveal this truth to Eric. “Only a few know my _real_ name.”

“Then, I'm honored... _Sean_.” Eric didn't know why, but that name _fit_ Hudson perfectly, better than “Hudson” did.

Sean bit the inside of his cheek, a tentative gaze heading in Eric's direction as his head bowed down. “Anyone ever call you 'Rick'?”

“Fuck no!” Eric snorted out a chuckle, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes.

Sean snickered uncontrollably, still shocked by the amount of swearing Eric was capable of. “Okay, then. I won't start.”

Eric tugged on Sean's cargo shorts. “C'mon... it's nearing lunch.” His eyes slowly roamed over Sean's upper body, the way the muscles and tendons had a few patches of perspiration forming, soaking the tank-t Sean had on underneath his Henley. “We'll take a break, eat. Finish up with the table an' then I'll need to rearrange your exercises today since you're using your upper body a lot.”

“mmm, you noticed?!” Sean torqued a bolt, which caused his biceps to flex, and then he properly “posed” for Eric's benefit.

Eric covered his eyes as if Sean had flashed him his naked form. “ _JesusHChrist! Sean!_ ” He really wished Sean would decide if this was going to be a joke or something serious, about flirting with him. Eric was beyond confused, and highly aroused in a very idiotically horny way.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

The table was finally taking the form of the picture on the box. Eric and Sean flipped the teak wood on its side to place the thick, square-shaped legs on the floor. Eric dug around to locate those shopping bags he had Sean bring in: containing cushions, pillows and several white top sheets to cover the surface of the massage table, even though it had its own matted cushion embedded. There were two attachments to the top of the table; one a normal extension to rest a client's head on, and then a second one where they could lay their heads face down in a donut-shaped hole. The other accessories inside the bag were for “special cases”, like Sean, for those who had previous injuries and might need extra attention; there were also massage oils and some CDs and an array of scented candles recommended to use for relaxation.

“Hop on.” Eric invited Sean to jump onto the table.

“What?” Sean was wiping his palms on a small handtowel.

“Hey, I'm not the one gettin' rub downs, am I? Jump on to test the sturdiness.” Eric shook the structure with a slight hesitation. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh. “Let's see if we followed the instructions correctly.”

“ _Wait—_ ” Sean was worried because he was about to do as Eric requested, _without thinking_. He leaned on the shape of the table, hands clamping down on the edges. “—this isn't, like, some elaborate scheme to watch me fall on my ass, then broadcast my follies on YouTube?”

“oh, yeah.” Eric rolled his eyes, crossing his forearms over his chest. “I live to torment you, posting videos about you over the Internet. Only _you_ , Sean.”

Sean bit at the corner of his bottom lip, feeling a chuckle wanting to come out of him. It was good to hear his name, felt as if he was back home, and normalcy had re-entered his world. “We have only just met, Eric. I don't know you _that_ well.”

“I can vouch for this company.” Eric gestured weakly to the opened cardboard box they had over-stuffed with trash and pieces they hadn't needed. “Though they claim 'easy assembly', _which is insanity,_ they're a step above the one I have back at my gym.”

“Why didn't you buy _that_ one?”

“uh, because the store didn't have any in stock.” Eric started walking around the table, his arms crossed at his back as he perused the final product. “I know this one was top of the line. I don't know what type of time frame you have, so I had to grab what was available, in the short time you're here.”

“Okay. Fair.” Sean slid over, bracing his frame as he hopped onto the surface. Eric eyed the structure as Sean moved to situate his body flat. Sean folded his hands over his belly, crossing his ankles. “Well? What's the verdict?”

“I don't know. You tell me. You'll be the one using it the most.” Eric ended at the top portion of the table, looking down at Sean upside down. “Do the cushioned backs feel more like a bed than plastic cushions nailed to teak wood?”

“hmm...” Sean couldn't really tell because he had never been to a professional masseuse, but he had been on plenty of cheaply constructed beds. This was, by far, better than all of them. “While I wouldn't use this one as an extra bed for guests, I do think an hour or so on here won't be pure torture.”

Eric paced closer to the side of the table, his hands reaching out for the edge, then plucking at the sheet. He was checking out the height of the table compared to his own body. Then he reached across Sean to see what his arm lengths would look like. “The height could use some adjusting, but I'll know better after your first session today.”

“So— _what next?_ ”

Eric smirked, putting out his hand to soothe over Sean's abdomen, simply because this was a move he normally did during their prior therapy sessions. “I'll give you a few minutes of reprieve, if you'd like to go swim your laps. Or... do _whatever_ you need to do to cool down/warm up for your exercises.”

“Are you really gonna eliminate _all_ the upper body workouts?” Sean lifted his arms above his head, folding them to lay his head on, like a pillow. “Those are always my favorite.” To prove how much he appreciated those types of workouts, he knew he was showing off the correct body parts.

“It's up to you.” Eric placed his hand on Sean's shoulder. “What do you think your body can handle?” He tried not to stare intently at Sean's upper arms, the biceps laying flat to the table behind that shaved head. “I would recommend 'not' because you'll tire easily this time, from using your strength earlier.” He realized even if he wasn't watching, he still could imagine Sean laying decadently on top of the table, in nothing but his famed skimpy swim trunks. “I'm only thinking ahead, trying to incorporate how your last few PT sessions have been like.”

“I'm a terrible patient; very stubborn and pig-headed.” Sean actually had begun to like this position with Eric, laying down while they talked and having to look up at him scooting around his body to touch him. “You could be a real jerk about the run this morning, but you're not.” He moved to lay the left side of his face deeper into the bend of his left arm, only so he could look at Eric standing in the distance. “I pride myself on never shooting for the common denominator and yet... I pushed myself to a ridiculous level for some obnoxious reason.”

“Hey... stop it. Don't beat yourself up.” Eric was feeling bad because Sean was great at putting down himself. “It's a common mistake that strength or 'power' can be claimed by going faster, pushing harder or lifting heavier. It will take years to re-train yourself out of old ways, to learn new.” He wanted to reassure Sean he was on the right path, even when he thought he wasn't. “It doesn't happen overnight.”

“Obviously.” Sean rose to his elbows and forearms, drawing up his uninjured leg to bend at the knee. “I think I _will_ swim a lap or three, then sit in the jacuzzi.” He blinked, turning his head to gaze at Eric. “Care to join me for either?”

“Nah, but thanks. I'll take a raincheck.” Eric decided to do “busy work” with going around the room and picking up garbage to clean up the mess they had made. “I need to set up the mats in the workout room.” He had taken off his track suit jacket earlier, showing off his own ribbed cotton tank-t. Now he was slipping off his sneakers, taking off his socks and then unsnapping the track suit pants to dress-down to his shorts. “Do a couple of last minute changes to what I had planned to work on with you today.”

Sean swung his legs back over, dangling them down as he sat on the side of the massage table. “Something to do with that huge-ass blue ball you had me carry in hours ago?” He had been watching Eric disrobe slowly in front of him, feeling a quiet niggle in his gut at the prospect of seeing Eric completely naked. The mere thought of him in a pair of similar swim trunks he typically wore caused Sean to ache with fresh want.

“That could be. That could very well be.” Eric softly chuckled at the excitement he could hear in Sean's voice, like a little boy allowed to run outside and play with his friends. He let his eyebrow raise as he turned to leave Sean in suspense.

“ _... damn..._ ” Sean watched Eric leave the small room with an air of mystery behind him. He thought it was becoming cute how Eric was attempting to show how hardcore he was. Sean almost wanted to call Eric back, offer him a suit and invite him to a challenge of laps in the pool. He knew that Eric was damn serious when it came to these PT sessions, and it was best to not piss him off beforehand, or there would be consequences to suffer during the exercises.  
  
 ****

 **~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


	8. Chapter 8

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That, apparently, didn't seem to matter. Sean had some idea that no upper body workout and the addition of a huge blue ball would lighten the moment. nah, not with Eric at the helm. Hands steady, and flat on the mat, Eric had Sean doing several leg stretches and movements that caused him to use muscles in his upper thighs and knees he hadn't felt since his college days on the baseball field. They had helped strengthen his run, had made him more agile to slide toward bases. Sean didn't know how Eric had accomplished this or had gotten his hands on some kind of How-To to train baseball players during Spring training. This all seemed so much easier when he was eighteen and had a good knee.

“ _All right!! Time!!_ ” Eric hit the stop watch and noticed Sean easing down, flipping to his side as he eventually rolled onto his back. “ _Good! Stay there! You're exactly in the position I need you to be in!_ ”

“ _Christ, Eric!_ ” Sean groaned, crossing his arms over his face. “Lemme catch my breath.”

“ _Fine! You have, uh... four-n-a-half minutes!_ ”

“ _... shit..._ ” Sean eyed Eric's backside in the loose sweatpants as he bent over to reach for the blue ball that had rolled into a tight spot in the room. How the hell did Eric stay so calm and dry? Not a drop of perspiration was visible. He even worked out in bare feet, which Sean was jealous of as he dripped sweat from every pore on his body, even inside his socks and sneakers.

Eric had been kind enough to throw Sean a handtowel to wipe away the moisture as he straddled the ball, able to ride the circumference like it was a saddle. He bounced and balanced from the tips of one toe to the other. Eric set his arms down limply to rest along the spread of his legs, noticing Sean's gaze dart to his groin every so often. “Think you could do this— _like me—_ without tipping over?”

“ _Hell yeah!_ ” Sean sat upright, placing the towel over a shoulder. “I'm taller than you. Plus, I've got shoes on.”

“Let's be fair.” Eric gestured to the sneakers. “Take 'em off.”

“I thought you said I would need the extra traction.” Sean started to gleefully toe off one sneaker at a time, yanking off the ankle socks to stuff into the inner soles.

“You do.” Eric sprang up and off the ball, wandering over to one of the duffel bags. He pulled out two rubberized swimmer's water shoes. “Here.” He threw them to Sean, this time using the ball like a chair. He was able to cross his arms and ankles without falling over. “Try these out for the new set of exercises.”

“Gonna show me how to sit on the ball?”

“No, Sean.” Eric chuckled. “First, I'm going to teach you a few flexing methods for your knee using the ball.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, if I were really into torturing you, I'd have tried to find a heavier ball. The old school way they used to do this workout.”

“Jesus, where did you find these things? The Internet?”

“No. That's always my last resort. Try—a library.”

“oh, God... you've got brawn _and_ brains.”

Eric couldn't help but laugh, like one couldn't exist without the other. “I'm self-taught, mostly. And I like to know everything I can about what I do. Everything new has been done before, just differently.”

Sean finished putting on the water shoes, finding them comfortable and cool against his skin. “ _Now what?_ ”

“Lay back.” Eric waited for Sean to follow his instructions before he stood, picking up the ball and walking closer. “All right. Pull your legs to your chest and raise your feet as high as you can get them.” It took some maneuvering, and some muttered swearing, but Sean was achieving a better position than Eric had hoped. “Okay, now... stretch your legs... _Up!_ ” Sean needed to raise his bottom off the mat, using hands braced at his lower back. Eric was closely watching every movement, not realizing that he hadn't told Sean to stop.

“ _... Eric!..._ ”

“ _... sorry, sorry..._ You can put your legs down now.”

Sean let his legs fall with a “plop”, not caring if they had gone in crazy directions. “Well—?”

“Baby steps, Sean. I won't re-injure your knee. I'm thinkin' two, sometimes three, steps ahead of every action.”

“Sorry, man. I'll shut up. Just tell me when to start moving again.” Sean shut his eyes, placing his hands along the outside of his torso. He was used to Eric either working out beside him or pacing in the distance. He didn't expect to sense Eric's knees against his left biceps, or feel the flat of Eric's palm against his lower abdomen. To be touched during a workout was foreign to Sean, but to feel Eric's touch was becoming too familiar. Eric was all business, not a flirtatious bone in his body, but every now and again Eric let a sign of tenderness come out. He was gentle and sensitive to the aches and pains Sean must be feeling. He had to admit, he felt extremely safe, and protected, with Eric nearby. Sean liked it when Eric was more hands-on and getting down to the same level on the mats to instruct him.

After telling Sean where he wanted his legs to be on his body, and then instructing him how to breathe, Eric thought it better to get on his own back and demonstrate. It was the perfect flow of body movements as once Eric situated himself, settling the ball mid-chest, he was able to move his legs in such a way that the end result was Eric balancing the blue ball in the air, using only his bare feet. That move looked massively complicated, which wasn't the _actual_ exercise.

With wide, stunned eyes, Sean watched Eric closely as he began to direct him on how this would work. Getting his feet to shape the ball, Sean would need to curl his body into itself in order to accomplish exactly what Eric was doing. The whole point of the exercise was making the ball feel like a dead weight, balancing the shape with the muscles in the lower limbs as the legs were straightened into the air. Eric had made it look easy, especially since he talked while moving, and even showed Sean— _with his hands—_ which muscle groups he would be working on. Sean was convinced that his body would simply refuse to move like Eric's did, but Eric was convinced it could be done.

Thankfully, Sean didn't have to do the initial fancy footwork. Eric helped on this one as Sean brought his legs to his chest, his feet pointing out, as the ball was set down on the rubberized soles. A few times the ball rolled, bouncing away, but Eric was quick to retrieve and start over. Frustrated with himself, Sean was only able to do one or two completed lifts before he forgot the ball was _pretend_ heavy, watching as it soared through the air to bounce in the distance. Eric wasn't as upset as Sean was, because he wasn't policing the ball movements as much as watching how Sean was breathing the right way and using the exact muscles in his legs as told.

Getting rid of the ball, Eric finally decided to demonstrate the principal of the exercise better _with his own body_. Sean didn't comprehend fully until he was asked to position his legs and feet again and saw Eric nearly jump in the air to land on the soles of his rubberized feet. At first shocked, Sean was amazed that Eric didn't feel heavier, like lead weight. It had to be because of how his legs were bent and the muscles he was utilizing. For awhile, it was precarious to balance Eric in mid-air, but then Sean reached up to hold onto Eric's fingers. Then it began to sink into Sean's head as Eric was counting down each lift and bend. Without really thinking, Sean pushed out his legs when an ache in his lower back started to surface, and Eric went sailing over him, behind on the mat and landed with a “plunk”.

Sean was quick with an apology, thinking Eric had crumpled in a heap. But when Sean turned over onto his stomach, he saw Eric had perfected a top-of-the-head roll and landed on his back. Eric was up on his elbows, chuckling lightly as he was about to sit upright once he got his head clear. Sean had never known his heart to enter his throat at another moment before, thinking he had hurt or injured Eric somehow. Finding Eric smiling and laughing nearly brought tears to his eyes. He was adamant about asking Eric how he was, even helping him to stand to his bare feet.

“Yeah, Sean, I'm fine.” Eric was touched by Sean's sincere concern. He glanced at the time. “I've been here almost all day.” He was walking over the mats, trying to circle around Sean's stance. “I should head back home.”

Sean smiled, lifting one eyebrow. “hmm... how can I _not_ imagine you're only leaving me to head into the arms of another— _younger—_ man?” He was only joking, but the broad, all-knowing smile spreading over Eric's face told different.

“You'd be _half_ right.”

To say he wasn't mildly heartbroken would be a lie. Sean knew Eric wouldn't be completely celibate, but he never gave off the vibe of a man who slept around. “o _h, really?_ Now you have me curious.”

Eric wandered back to his duffel bags, putting things away. “I don't like to talk about my private life with clients.”

“ah-ha. _Boundaries._ ” Funny, Sean had thought they had gone beyond a simple client/employer relationship, close to “friend” territory. But then again, it was unfair of him to cry foul when he wouldn't let Eric invade his own privacy. “Forget I asked. uh, I'll be soaking in the jacuzzi, if you need me.” Sean was halfway to his destination before he realized he still had the shoes on that Eric had loaned him. He took everything he wore off, even his swim trunks, and climbed into the bubbling, heated water.

When Eric was packed and prepared to leave, he headed toward the backyard where the pool and jacuzzi were situated just outside of the sliding glass doors, onto the stone-work patio. He found the trail of clothing— _even the skimpy swim trunks—_ laid out in a pattern on the way to the jacuzzi. Eric could tell Sean had dunked completely under a few times; his entire scalp was covered in droplets of water. Eric had been snatching up the clothes with the water shoes to make a neat stack within Sean's reach on a lounger's cushion.

Eric figured Sean had no idea he was close-by, so he thought to make himself known. “Sean...” He saw Sean lift his head, broad shoulders stiffening. “—I'm gonna head out now. Jus' wanted to say 'goodbye', an' I'll see you later in the week.”

Sean shifted in the water to the other side instead of turning his head to see Eric. “You already packed your car, didn't you?”

“It's okay. I don't expect you to feel the need to help me, every single time.” Eric loosely folded his arms over his front, holding onto his elbows. He had re-dressed into his track suit, having changed out of his workout clothes. “Besides, I'm leaving with less than I came with.”

“Still... I can be such an ass.”

“No. Trust me. I'll let you know when you're being one.”

“... thanks...”

Eric thought to walk away, but something kept him standing there, looking down at Sean floating in the sudsy water. “I don't know why, but— _because you shared a truth of your own; something you don't normally tell people_ —”

“Eric, _don't_. You don't have to—” Now Sean felt bad for nosing about where he knew he didn't belong.

“No, I _want_ to.” Eric put out a hand, palm out, to stop Sean from browbeating himself too much. “There's a _huge_ difference.”

“All right.” Sean had some idea Eric was about to confess having a boyfriend. He didn't know, right until this very second, that he had been secretly hoping Eric had been feeling the same attraction toward him.

“I share custody of twins with my Ex. A boy and a girl. They're almost four.”

Well... Sean hadn't been expecting _that_ kind of admission. He moved to stand, but stopped when Eric brought his stretched arm higher to block the nakedness from popping out above the water-line. “Eric, I—”

Eric slowly turned, showing Sean his profile as he looked out over the huge Olympic-sized pool into the skyline of Pittsburgh. “I don't get to see them often, but when I do _nothing_ _else_ matters.”

“Jesus... you don't have to give me reasons.” Sean wiped both hands over his face, trying to curtail feeling like a heel for thinking Eric had been hiding a mysterious sexual life. “I _don't_ need them.”

“No, I think you _do_. You deserve them.” Eric hated thinking Sean was envisioning him as a sexual predator toward gay men. He _wished_ he had the kind of life most people thought he did, just because of his looks. “I wanted you to know so you wouldn't get some far-fetched idea _if_ I canceled an evening appointment or I happened to walk out of here for with no excuse, _if_ my phone should ring. I'm not running to some hidden sexual love-nest, waiting in my bedroom.”

“oh-kay...” Sean was a bit startled by that last comment.

“All right, then. _We good?_ ” Eric felt he could turn around now and look at Sean directly, without fear of being flashed his perfect, nude skin. What he could already see was temptation enough.

Sean nodded and smirked. “Yeah, Eric, we're _very_ good.”

“Awesome.” Eric crossed his arms at his back. “I'll see you Thursday, same time?”

“Yes. Thursday.”

“Bye.”

“Have fun.”

“I will.” Eric nodded his head while chuckling. “I always do.”

Sean watched Eric exit with a heavy heart and some difficulty breathing. Somehow knowing Eric had children didn't scare him away. In fact, it endeared Eric more as Sean began to see him in a more mature, parental role. It _did_ make sense, since Eric carried himself strictly professional throughout the rest of his world. Eric had to have sacrificed a lot to have what he did with his kids. Sharing custody with an Ex was never easy. Suddenly, Sean wanted to know _everything_ he could. He wanted to see pictures, be told their names. He even thought about asking to meet them, thinking that Eric could bring them over so they could swim in the pool.

He chuckled to himself because these kinds of thoughts running through his mind were drastically different than the ones he had a mere two years ago. Life was ironic, and sad, that way, throwing curve balls at you and putting people in your path you would least expect to talk to, much less like and enjoy the company of. Little things and simple pleasures— _the genuine smile and brightness of eyes on a handsome face or the shape of a well-rounded backside to the slope of a curved lower back—_ Sean didn't know if he would be able to _not_ think about Eric tonight when he would be conducting his first meeting with Michael Novotny.

 _oh, damn..._

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~ **

Brian wasn't sure why, but in between his meetings he had the urge to speak to Michael, or rather... hear the sound of his voice in an ear. He kept rolling over the scene of this morning in his head and couldn't help the confusion, or the desperation, to understand what was going on with Michael. He already knew Lyle would be taking away Michael for their “one night stand”, but there was something in him that believed that kiss Michael silenced him with wasn't simply to shut him up. Michael could be suppressing latent sexual tension with him and Brian couldn't fathom missing an opportunity or letting Lyle get everything Michael had been hiding from him. Plainly, Brian wasn't going to lay down without a fight. Even though he had been the one to arrange the sole purpose for Michael's evening out in a few hours.

Michael's cell was answered in one ring. “Hello?”

“I'm an idiot.”

Michael chuckled deeply. “I love conversations that start off like this.”

“Har-har. I completely forgot you'd be traveling between the stores. I've spent the last half-hour wasting precious time to reach you.”

“I have an excellent phone service that _actually_ listens to me.”

“I don't know how you found this person, but I never knew there could be two 'Cynthia-s' in this world.”

“She's the _manager_ of my main store. _Not my personal assistant_.”

“I like her. She's not easily persuaded by my usual Kinney charm.”

“No, Brian, you _can't_ have her. I found her first.”

“It tells me I didn't pay attention to how well you have been doing, and that you've successfully gone off on your lonesome to handle your business without my help.”

“Oh, you _did_ help me. More than you know.” Michael paused, his brow furrowing with a sense of curiosity. “Is there some reason you called?”

“Yes, yes, there is one.” Brian realized he had truly been missing the sound of Michael's voice in his ear, when he lost track of his own excuse for calling. “You left without hearing a clearer answer to your question.”

“ _Which was?_ ” Like Michael had to be reminded.

“ _Yes._ Yes, _I will come out with you_.”

“Oh... all right.” Michael knew there had to be stipulations. Brian wouldn't easily cave in without some control in the situation.

“—but on _one_ condition.”

“ _Which is?_ ”

“ _Dinner._ Dinner and then we can go to Woody's and, maybe, Babylon.”

“mmm... curious. You say 'dinner' like you want it to be more than a meal at the diner.”

“I haven't taken you out, or treated you to something special, for being nominated for the Pitts Small Businessman of the Year.”

“Brian, that was months ago.”

“And I foolishly let it pass us by. While I agonize over the loss, still... it was an honor to see you nominated.”

“Brian... _are you okay? Did you skip lunch again?_ ”

“I'm fine. And, no... I had a _very good_ lunch meeting. Very satisfying and productive.”

“uh-oh... you're feeling like Tony Stark again, huh?”

“hehehe, might be. I don't know. I just thought—we go out to eat and it's always at the Diner. It's rare that I can have you to myself and treat you how you deserve to be treated.”

“Well, geez, how can I resist _that_ sales pitch?”

“Michael, promise me it'll only be us— _you and I_.”

“I promise, Brian.” Michael was only confused for a minute until he realized what Brian was asking of him. Not to tell Emmett or Ted, so they would try to invite themselves along for the evening. “I can keep secrets when needed, you know.”

“Good. I'll be by to pick you up at 7:30pm— ** _SHARP_**.”

“How should I dress?”

“hmm... good question. While I'd love to say 'don't bother dressing', I'd have to say, for a clothing option— _look like you're going out on a date_.”

“ _With you?_ ”

“Why is that so weird? I have gone on a 'date' or two in my youth.”

“But not with me, and, surely, never willingly.”

“Maybe we should change that.”

“Maybe we should.”

“I'll see you later.”

“I guess you will.” Michael waited for Brian to speak, or to have the last word. Instead, it was just a soft “click” of hanging up. He stared at his phone with a silly grin building on his face. Just as he was putting the cell phone away, it “bleeped” to notify him of an incoming text message. He lay it back in his palm, a wide smile on his lips as he read an out-of-the-blue text from Cynthia.

 **~*~wanna hear sumthin strng?**   
**~*~boss jus wandrd out of secretry spply closet???**   
**~*~huge grn on face! Whut doz this mean??**

Michael nearly died laughing, because he could imagine Cynthia sticking around to see if anybody had walked out after Brian exited. Then he began to feel a true sense of pleasure, knowing that Brian had hid somewhere in that huge-ass Kinnetic office, in order to make a call to him. It was adorable, and yet perplexing, but more of the former.

Who knew why Brian Kinney did anything the way in which he chose to do them.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

He had arrived at Woody's and snagged a spot at the bar, near the wall with a good vantage point. He knew right when to show as the bar filled to capacity for a random weekday night. He could get lost amongst the many faces. He had done this once before, and had been quite successful. He was, also, out of sight range from his client and eventual “target”. He didn't want to be seen, able to gauge how to deal with the soon-to-be run-in at Babylon.

The good thing was, even though he was here for work, he could actually lament about his own life— _his own real growing feelings_. He was thankful to be out on his own to clear his head and reset his system. He had a tough decision to make and he was hoping the choice would be the right one.

Seated on the bar stool, it only took five minutes of watching his “preys” to know for certain that the evening wasn't going to go exactly as had been planned. It was time to take control and wield a specific power he had, if he chose to use it wisely.

By the half-way mark, he had seen enough. He pulled out a fifty and set the money under his napkin, beating a hasty retreat out the front door.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

To anyone watching who _didn't know_ them, their actions and mannerisms wouldn't look different. To those watching who _did know_ them— _like Emmett and Ted,_ whatever they were up to would look highly suspect. To Michael, Brian was being this newly reformed self; he still acted like a jealous neurotic, but he had become more demanding of Michael's time. What was different for Michael was there was no “wandering eye”; Brian's focus remained on him, but especially making other men aware that Michael was “off limits”. It worked best to keep Michael in strong confines when on a high bar stool, or within strong arms while standing around.

 **_“_ ** **_This... is weird.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Very weird.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_I almost feel bad for him.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Who?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Brian.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Why?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_He's completely clueless about what'll happen once they're at Babylon.”_ **   
**_“o_ _h, so you think that guy's gonna show?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_I'll eat my old underwear if he doesn't.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_oooo, naw... puh-leeze, don't do that. I think he'll show too. He did seem awful smitten with Michael.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_TBO, through-n-through. Michael's one lucky fucker.”_ **   
**_“mmm... TBO to the core. But—I dunno—his eyes and that smile...”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_What? Not you too?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_So... a Hottie of his caliber can't be a decent, nice guy?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Name one who is—that you don't know?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_... jesus, you're right...”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Sorry to burst your bubble.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_If you feel bad for Brian—and I'm assuming he's the closest to a TBO we've been able to observe and communicate with for a long time—why feel so bad, if he's not a nice, decent guy?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_We tolerate Brian because Michael is the good guy.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_So, would that lead us to the understanding that we think—what?—about Brian for Michael?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Christ, who the hell knows, but... it's been way-too long since I've seen Michael smile and blush like that.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Agreed. He does look extremely content, right where he is.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_... an' we owe it all to Kinney...”_ **

Emmett and Ted glanced at one another, shaking the heebee-jeebeeies out of their systems at what they had just admitted out loud.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Michael was standing in front of the new-old arcade console of Mrs. PacMan. While he worked the joystick, he entrusted the button to his left on Brian's agility and concentration. As usual, they worked best as a team; Michael was navigating, while Brian killed the big baddies.

Michael enjoyed the feel of Brian surrounding him, the jerky movements as they bumped into one another and the sneaky ways Brian kept stealing kisses on his skin or brushing fingers over his clothes. The nuzzling of his hair was what nearly killed him, in Mrs. PacMan as well.

Brian left Michael in the small arcade/game room as he went back to the bar to replenish their beers. Michael finished by putting their username— **Dynamic Duo** —in the “high scores” listing and watching as the ancient electronics displayed their name in third place. He was on a high, a high so high he didn't want the sensation to end. Michael pulled out his phone and located the number the “prospective conquest” from the gym had given him as a contact. Well, the phone number Emmett and Ted had pestered out of the poor man. Not really knowing much about this, uh... **Hudson L.** character, Michael thought it best to text and give him the bad news.

 **[** Michael **]~*~hey... i no u don no me, but it looks like i need to cancel babylon**

Michael hit “Send”.

 **[** Michael **]~*~sumthin haz come up. srry :(**

Michael was satisfied that the message would be the end. **Hudson L.** would respond back with his own apologies and say, “ ** _Maybe next time_** ”. He put his phone away, wandering out of the small arcade, past the dart board on the wall and was rounding the corner to the pool room when he caught sigh of what—well, whom—had been keeping Brian. Michael could react like a jealous fool, but this was too commonplace to overreact in such a manner. He felt his cell vibrate, so he reached into his pocket to yank it out and see what was coming for him.

A text. From **Hudson L.**

Sighing heavy, since Michael now had time to waste, he pushed the screen to read the incoming text message.

 **[** Hudson L. **]~*~pleez don cancel. no babylon? jus talk? culd use a frend**

Michael was a little stunned, and perplexed. He didn't even know this man, and yet his heart skipped a beat that someone as gorgeous as Hudson L. had “no one”. It was like Brian all over again. Michael was intrigued, a bit worried and concerned. He decided to reply...

 **[** Michael **]~*~ where?**

Michael wandered back over to the table he had kept with Brian, grabbing coats off their abandoned stools.

 **[** Hudson L. **]~*~outside cornr. in frnt of librty dinr**

Michael lifted one side of his mouth in a small grin.

 **[** Michael **]~*~i'll c u in 5**

 **[** Hudson L. **]~*~will wait 4 u**

Michael had finally reached Brian and gently touched his lower back, causing him to turn around. Brian spun to find Michael behind him. He smirked, reaching out a hand to cup Michael's shoulder and then slide across to latch onto his nape.

“Michael, I want you to meet—”

“Here.” Michael handed Brian his own jacket, keeping his head down and eyes averted. “I'll meet you at Babylon later, okay?”

“ _What?_ ” Brian wrinkled his brow in confusion, not sure he understood what was going on. “But you—I was—”

“Not now, Brian. It's not a good time.” Michael didn't want to get into it with Brian right this second, so he patted the front of Brian's shirt. “Sorry.” He gave a swift nod to the stranger. “I don't mean to be rude.” He didn't feel like introducing himself to someone Brian would only know for a mere second or two and then throw away casually.

The guy tipped his drink toward Michael. “Hey, it's okay.” He let out a genuine smile, looking between Brian and Michael, gaze staying on Brian as if to ask secret questions to _what_ was happening. “You look a little distressed.”

“A friend. Needs me.” Michael blurted out, not caring if Brian heard or comprehended what he meant.

“But Michael...” Brian knew for certain Emmett and Ted weren't far behind them, sitting somewhere in seclusion as they hibernated in the dark to gossip about bar patrons. And he was right here with Michael. So it begged the question of which “friend” of Michael's was in _serious need_.

“If you don't see me at Babylon— _if I can't make it—_ I'll call you.” Michael smiled with some sadness, tugged on Brian's sleeve and stood on tip toes to kiss him “goodbye” on the cheek.

Brian simply watched Michael disappear within the meandering customers of Woody's, then exit out the heavy wood door with a cold burst of air. “uhm... my apologies. He's usually more friendly.” He wasn't sure how to explain Michael's quiet “dis”.

“Don't worry.” The guy gave a short glance toward the closing door, shrugging one shoulder as he took a sip of his drink. “Seemed like his friend really needed him.”

“Yeah, it did, didn't it?” Brian searched around to look for Schmidt and Honeycutt. They appeared to have conveniently vanished. With a frown marring his features, Brian slid the extra beer over to his prospective new client. “I'm glad to see you took a chance and came out tonight to check out The Avenue's vibe on your own.” He gave out a mild salute toward the man, admiring his bravery.

“Well, I have to admit, you talked a good pitch to me at lunch. I was,” The guy's eyes strayed to locate the tight backsides encased in equally tight denim and skimpy cotton tops. “— _curious_.”

Brian let his own gaze slide back-n-forth between his client and the view he was getting a chance to peruse. “Think you can see yourself opening your chain of stores out here?”

“Maybe.” The guy shook his head, taking another long sip of his mixed drink. He slammed the glass down on the counter, sliding over the brown beer bottle. “But I leave that up to you and your talented advertising team to prove to me that Pittsburgh has something special to offer me and my business.”

“Excellent.” Brian nodded his head once, then wished he could say his excuses and follow Michael. This was too lucrative an opportunity to pass up, especially if Michael was pulling one of his “emotional episodes”, like before. “Looks like I have a few hours to kill before I leave you to wander around on your own.” He took a quick glance at his wristwatch to gauge time lapses. “How long do you have until you meet up with your crew?” He recalled, at the lunch meeting, that his client had mentioned he would be shuttling his employees around town, but would do some side-sightseeing on his own. Then he would eventually meet back up with them to compare notes.

“Eh, I told them to start without me. I'll catch up once I get there.”

“All right then...” Brian didn't want to sound bored, but this was one of the few times this kind of extra hand-holding with a client might make-or-break his business. “... what would you like to do first?”

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Michael reached the corner a little earlier than five minutes, more like three-minutes-and-forty-five-seconds. There was no one standing around, looking lost and lonely, or looking in “need of a friend”. Tucking his hands in his coat pockets, Michael stood still, his eyes glancing over the men's heads and faces passing him by.

The door to the diner jangled and—just out of pure instinct—Michael lifted his head to find the Hottie from the gym, dressed casually for Fall/Winter weather leaving the restaurant. He held open the door with his backside, balancing two coffee containers and a take-out bag in his hands.

Michael smirked, rushing over to relieve the man of one of those items or taking over door duty. “Hi.” He smiled broadly with a twinkle to his eyes. That new freshness of meeting beautiful strangers who liked him tended to bright his moods. Especially ones who grinned back and had tinges of happiness in their own eyes.

“Hey, Michael.”

“ _Agh_... they gave you my name.” Michael teased as he shyly stood by and kept a strong grip of the glass door, watching the man shuffle around to walk completely out of the doorway. He hadn't been there when Emmett and Ted had gotten the name and number; he had been too nervous to approach “Hudson L.” on his own.

Hudson laughed, stretching out a hand to give Michael one of the coffee cups. “Hot cocoa. I hope you weren't expecting coffee.”

Michael took the cup with moisture gathering in his eyes. He was still in a highly emotional state after catching Brian and his typical flirty ways. “mmm... I think I love you.” He took a whiff of the scent, then moved backward to give Hudson room to view him openly. “Nice to finally meet you, Hudson.” Michael stuck out a free hand for Hudson to shake.

“Same here.” Hudson wrapped his large hand around Michael's smaller one.

Michael used his head to motion toward the take-out bag. “Is that dinner?”

“Dessert.” Hudson cleared his throat, tenderly using the grip on Michael's hand to pull him closer as the sidewalk seemed to get busier with wandering pedestrians. He had a sudden urge to keep Michael at his side, in a strong protective mode. “Have you had these lemon bars?” Hudson was already halfway to licking his mouth at the mere thought of tasting another one.

“ _Marry me._ ” Michael almost choked on his sip of cocoa at the shocked face Hudson gave him.  
  
 ****

 **~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


	9. Chapter 9

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v163/sonnygrl/BrianMichael%20Cover%20Art/?action=view&current=TheBeautifulOnesChap9Banner.jpg)

  
  
****

Brian woke when he heard the car pull up and swore he could hear Michael's voice, then his laughter in the distance. Brian had spent the whole night ferrying his prospective client around Liberty Avenue since Michael hadn't bothered to show at Babylon. Neither had Lyle. Brian started to wonder what kind of “call” Michael had gotten to draw him away the entire evening. And who had been this “friend” that had needed him so desperately? Emmett and Ted were no help, although they could confirm it _hadn't_ been Eric Michael was meeting up with. Whenever Brian had tried to reach Michael, he got voice-mail. And then when voice-mail was full, the phone rang and rang. Michael wasn't calling back to tell Brian to stop calling him.

Brian was left to ponder where Michael could be. At two in the morning, Brian let himself into Michael's home and tried to do some digging, but was out of luck. Finally, he had passed out on the couch, falling asleep until six-thirty in the morning. With still no sign of Michael, Brian had wandered back to the Stingray, climbing in and thought he would wait a bit longer. He knew Michael would need _something_ from home, for work, or he would want to shower to be fresh and clean for the day. As the sun rose, the air was tolerably cool and crisp. Brian had his driver side window down and went to lay his head back; he ended up falling asleep and waking to the sounds of Michael arriving home.

Brian adjusted his seat upright, narrowing his eyes to notice that Michael wasn't alone. Whomever was with Michael was obscured by the neighbor's foliage, a row of young saplings used to divide the property line. Brian could see Michael perfectly: the natural ease of his smile, the almost-giggling and popping with excitement. Michael was on his porch, about to be followed in, but he put a hand on the chest, his mouth moving fast as he made some excuse to finally call whatever was between them “done”. The companion seemed to agree, cupping both sides of Michael's face to pull him upward and over to give him a proper kiss. It wasn't anything passionate or feverish, but it was long and achingly sweet. They bumped heads and Michael acted maternally as he bundled the taller man's coat closed, pointing over to the idling, warm car.

Brian wanted to keep his eyes on Michael, but his curiosity got the better of him and he watched the companion walk across the front lawn to his car, back turned. It wasn't until the man was climbing behind the driver's seat, when he glanced over the roof of the car to span a glance out to the neighborhood, that Brian actually recognized him.

 **Lyle**. **Hudson Lyle**. It seemed like Hudson had a masterful trick up his sleeve to thwart any counter-plan Brian could come up with to derail the original plan. There was too much intimacy and affection shown to refute the idea that Hudson hadn't followed through and been the one night stand that would become _something_ _more_.

Brian was pissed. He had told Hudson to use every option he had to attract Michael, get him to want him, but he thought it would be in a controlled environment like Babylon. Brian had no idea Hudson would've gone behind his back, taken Michael away and secluded him in privacy to complete the moment. It had been smart, and probably a method Brian would have used. Brian could only be pissed at himself. First, for thinking Michael was simply breathing fire to let off steam, and second, for allowing this plan to fall through his grasp and out of his control.

When he watched Hudson drive off, Brian was quick to follow. He kept a respective distance, but at some point he decided to hang back farther and let Hudson go wherever he planned on heading. Brian had to think he would get a call from Hudson with an update in the next few hours. He wouldn't bother Hudson, possibly making himself look desperate. Brian had to bide his time and think.

He called Cynthia and told her he was running late, that he would be in when she saw him. Cynthia scoffed, chuckling as she passed on the good news that their new prospective client wanted a _second_ meeting to talk over contracts and ad campaigns. This time at the Kinnetic's offices. Brian attempted to sound as enthusiastic as Cynthia did, but it was tough. He knew he had to suppress this issue with Michael in order to make it through the day. If he didn't face the issue soon, face Michael, then it would fester inside and most likely manifest into a much larger problem.

Sometime to day, Brian would have to see Michael, face-to-face. He _had_ to.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~ **

Sean arrived at the gym, knowing full well he wasn't going to be there to workout. He _needed_ to see Eric; he _wanted_ to talk to Eric. He could only do it face-to-face, not over the phone. He was halfway to the front door when he spun around to walk back to his car. Sean deep-breathed a few times, closing his eyes and assured himself this was the right decision. Just like last night with Michael. Retracing his steps, he strolled inside and crossed the threshold as he yanked off his wool cap, slipping out of his gloves. Sean stepped to the front desk; Carey was deeply immersed in flirtation-mode. Sean patiently waited for _his_ turn.

Once Carey was finished, he turned to face Sean. “How can I—? oh, it's you. uh, uhm...” He seemed to be preoccupied with making a better impression on Sean as if he had any “pull” with Eric in getting Carey fired.

“Is Eric around?”

“Yeah, uh... somewhere. uhm...” Carey walked from behind the counter to glance into the exercise rooms. “Wait. He could be with Ronnie. I'm not sure—can you wait until I look?”

Sean smiled slightly, nodding his head. He thought it rather interesting to watch Carey move that fast as if his ass was on fire. It made up for those times he had seen Carey slower than a snail or simply sitting there, filing his nails. Sean was fairly certain Carey wasn't supposed to leave the front desk unsupervised, but then no one seemed to mind what he did on his shift. A gym employee was backing out of the swinging double doors, pulling a hand-truck with a stack of boxes filled with merchandise. Sean pushed off the counter once he noticed the employee was Eric coming toward him.

First thing Eric discovered was Carey missing, then his gaze traveled over to catch Sean making his way over. He wasn't dressed for working out; his coat was still on. Eric left the boxes to wander toward the front desk. “Hey...” It never failed that an easy smile popped out over his lips whenever he first caught Sean's gaze.

“... hi...” Sean let out a soft smile, finding his throat clogging on that one tiny word.

“You look—warm.” Eric smirked, not knowing how it was possible for a man to appear sexier with _more_ clothes on.

“I am.” Sean chuckled deeply, his gaze intent on Eric's face. “I should be used to this kind of weather, but I have a weak immune system.” He was babbling useless information, and he was nervous. “Generally, I go overboard starting with the Fall season.”

Eric couldn't help himself as he reached out to smooth a hand down Sean's billowy chest and arm. He began to frown, noticing how nervous Sean was acting as hat and gloves were wrung between his hands. “You okay?” His gaze darted from hands to Sean's face, his eyes concerned.

Sean lifted one side of his mouth in a mild smirk. “I'm good. I—uh... I know I could have easily saved the trip and called, but—I was out, driving...” He licked his upper lip. “... past the gym and thought—”

“Wait. Stop.” Eric placed a comforting hand on Sean's forearm. He looked over his shoulder to see that Carey was making his way back.

Out of breath, Carey neared his position behind the desk. “ah—so he found you.”

Without missing a beat, Eric cleared his throat as he shared a long stare with Sean that ended with similar grins. “We found each other.” Eric passed a box cutter over the countertop as he turned his eyes to directly face Carey. “Bring those boxes behind the desk to work on. I need you to replenish the stock that's missing on the shelves, or items that only have one or two left.” He slid his hand down to grab Sean's wrist, then entwined with his curled fingers. “Come on, let's talk somewhere more private.”

“But I don't wanna—it'll only take a few minutes.” Sean was being walked over to the cluster of empty tables in the juice bar area. He already saw Eric shuffle to the counter to order something. “I don't want anything.”

“Well, I do.” Eric had been exerting himself with lifting and stacking boxes around, intending to bring out actual work for Carey to help him with. “I've been working in the back since early this morning.”

Sean was able to look closely at Eric in his work Polo shirt and black Khakis. The guy didn't ever break out in a sweat. But then Sean's eyes dropped to the pale nape and saw the wet tendrils of hair against the bare skin. He wanted to kiss the exposed patch, bury his face in the hair and soothe his hand over the soft, pliable flesh. Then Eric swiveled to flash him a smile and Sean felt his heart plummet south, landing solidly in his gut. He liked Eric, more than he was willing to freely admit. More than as a casual friend, more than just a favorite workout buddy and more than simply a well-trained physical therapist. Sean watched the money come out to pay for the drink, then eyed Eric's lips open to surround the plastic straw as he lifted the drink he had purchased to quench his thirst.

Eric strolled away first as he pocketed the change, picking an exact spot to sit and share with Sean, tucked back from the main traffic area of the front foyer. “C'mon, take off your jacket, at least.”

Sean placed his wool cap and gloves on the table surface, unzipping out of his coat. He hooked the material on the back of a chair, then sat down to face Eric. Sean's eyes lowered to find Eric fiddling with his wool cap, having set the plastic cup on the table, just under his chin. “You seem— _different_.” Eric really did seem to be changed, somewhat.

Eric smiled, tilting his head in curiosity. “I do?” At Sean's nod, he appeared to agree. “Well, I had a great night with the twins. First time in a long while they've been able to be kids again.”

Sean could tell immediately how much Eric loved his children. “How long have you and your Ex been separated?” He had to lessen this need to feel achingly envious of other people having been in Eric's life before him.

“Almost two years.” Eric couldn't even fathom how long he had been separated, since the wounds still felt fresh and painful.

“And he has sole custody?” Sean was to assume this with the mention of “visitation” the other day.

“No. We both have partial, but he has them more because he's the one with the permanent home and the steady income with a reliable job.” Eric stared down at the material of Sean's cap as he used his index fingers to slide it around on the table surface. He was feeling a little exposed and vulnerable at the moment. “I was lucky to walk away with what I did.”

“Why?” Sean couldn't imagine what straitlaced and virtuous Eric Vaughn could have done to create any kind of havoc. Unless he had a hidden “bad boy” persona that had been diminished over time.

Eric contemplated how far he should go with explaining his old life and the many twist-n-turns it had taken. He figured it would be simpler to admit the truth, then let Sean decide for himself. “Because I was deeply in love and stupidly trusted that nine years of a committed relationship would actually mean something to him.”

Sean balked at the words “nine years”, but an interesting fact stuck him. “He's in _another_ relationship?”

“Oh, yeah.” Eric let out a stunted laugh, raising his eyes to gaze across at Sean's direct stare. “They were pretty well established two weeks before we broke it off.” He loved to watch the shape of the eyes widen a bit with shock at the information. He was finding himself transfixed by their deepening colors.

“Jesus...” Sean tilted his head, wiping at his lower jaw and settling his crossed arms on the table. “So how come he isn't the one with the shorter visitation?”

Eric dropped his eyes in sudden shame. “I let my ego rule over heart and brain.” He cleared his throat as he averted his head to lock on something moving in the distance, beyond the glass walls of the exercise room. “I thought doing to him what he'd done to me would make things more fair. And it only ended up giving him the right ammunition he needed against me in court.” He brought his gaze back to lock onto Sean's eyes again, wondering what he would find, startled to notice there was empathy and real anguish for him and his plight alone.

“But you'd been monogamous up until _that_ point?” Sean eyes went rounder as Eric avoided his gaze. “You had affairs?” He couldn't fathom Eric being the “cheating” type. It didn't feel like that attitude was in his nature.

“No.” Eric put out a hand, palm out in his own defense. “Like I said, I loved him explicitly— _like a brain-dead fool—_ and put my trust in him.” He started crumbling the wool into one hand, then let it go to watch it spread out on its own. He didn't dare look into Sean's face for fear of seeing any negative emotion looking back at him. “ _He_ was the one who wanted to expand our sex life, introduce other people to our bed. To ' _spice up our love life a tad_ ', he claimed.” Eric went back to playing with the material on the table, this time more aware to how soft the wool was and how warm the wool felt. He suddenly wanted to bring the cap to his nose to find out if it smelled like Sean. “When it came time to show how unfit ** _I_** was, and how much more parental/stable **_he_** was, it was easy to say I— _being the younger of us—_ was the one responsible for wanting sexual exploration.”

Sean was sensing his body temperature rise in mild anger, getting enraged for the way Eric had been blatantly mistreated by someone he deeply cared for and loved. “ _And now?_ ”

“It's civil. Enough. He tried to move away to make it difficult.” Eric let out a small smile to show Sean he hadn't let his Ex win. “I simply uncomplicated the problem by following behind him. They were young when we split. Now they're older and a little confused to why they have so many homes to live in. My daughter is fine, but my son—” He shook his head, attempting to forget how difficult a transition it had been—more for the kids than for them as a divorcing couple. “What my Ex doesn't realize is how much I'd give up for them to make sure they're all right. I could care less how **_I_** 'm treated.” Eric spared some quick glances to Sean's face, trying to get him to smile despite that pinched look on his handsome features. Jesus, he had explained his pain all too well.

Sean stretched out to cover his hand over Eric's arm, brushing along bare skin. “ _Someone_ should.” That comment had Eric looking sharply toward him. “How late do you work today?”

“I'll probably be here until seven, or so.” Eric wrinkled his brow in curiosity. “Why?”

“I want you to come to the house early tomorrow.” Sean tightened his grip, then released a smile from the side of his mouth to show Eric they were veering off the painful subject onto better topics.

“How early?”

“... 5am...”

Eric smiled broadly, pulling out of Sean's grasp to cross his arms over his chest as he leaned back in the chair. “Why?” It sounded peculiar, as if Sean had a secret mission under his sleeve.

“I'm here in Pittsburgh for several reasons, but—” Sean cleared his throat, tangling his fingers and setting the bond down on the table top. “I've been putting off one because it's gonna take _a lot_ out of me. Not as much physically as emotionally—mentally. I've been dreading going alone and, well...”

“You want me to go with you.” Eric simply stated the obvious out loud, feeling his heart rate start to quicken.

“I think it's become more like—I _need_ you with me.”

Eric closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest. “Why do I get a feeling there's more to this than you're letting on?” He pushed off the chair rungs to lean over the table surface.

“You'd be right.”

“Sean, I don't kno—” Eric watched Sean reach his arms across the small table surface, hands latching onto his forearms with a gentle strength. He could already feel his will collapsing.

“I'd be an idiot to think you'd blindly say 'yes' to my offer.” Sean kept his eyes lowered as he talked. “That's why I thought it was better to come ask you in person.” He lifted his head to gaze directly into Eric's face. “I was nobody to you, yet you came to my rescue.” Sean exhaled on a small snicker as he noticed Eric blush with embarrassment. It was refreshing to meet a man who still had some innocence and humbleness built-in, untouched by the many loves and lovers in his life. He didn't meet many people like Eric in his life or his job. “And you have no idea how grateful I am to you. You had too much on your plate and still you took me under your wing and have been, literally, caring for me. Much more than what any therapist should do for a patient. I know you hate me saying this, but... I owe you—so much. I owe you a certain gratitude and honesty.”

“Sean, please...” Eric raised one hand to wipe the side of his face, feeling the heated skin already forming.

“No, don't.” Sean took Eric's arm to stop him from hiding his face, unable to get Eric to not avert his head again. “Don't interrupt me.” He noticed Eric giving him furtive glances from the side of his eyes. “I might be a few years younger, less experienced on certain levels, but I think we both know what's going on here.” Sean gave an extremely slow nod of his head, witnessing Eric look away at that moment, as if he was feeling much the same. “Or what's been going on between us. Whether we deny it or not, it's there—waiting to be dealt with.”

Eric began his words with the shake of his head, bending his right arm at the elbow to rest his head on. “I can't think about getting involved again.” He was hoping to keep their conversation private and intimate, so he spoke in a lower tone. “Especially with someone whom I've only known for a month and isn't able to commit to moving out here permanently or not.”

“I realize that, which is why I need you to clear your schedule— _our schedule_ —and come with me.”

“Last time I trusted a man, I had my ass handed to me on a platter.”

“Well, I can't promise much, but I'll be steering clear of your ass. It'll be the _whole_ you I want with me.”

“Oh, God...” Eric groaned, proceeding to bury his face in his folded arms on the table.

Sean scooted his chair over to be closer to Eric's slumped form, wanting to be able to rub the expanse of back and soothe the nape as he tugged on the drying hair ends. “I know everything is murky and mysterious right now.” He buried his face in the side of Eric's head, near an ear. “—but you'll understand who, and what, I am better by the end of the day tomorrow.” Sean could sense a tiny motion of Eric leaning right back into him. “Then I leave it up to you to decide if you want to know me even better. The real me—Sean.”

This was good. This was the kind of “next step” Eric had been hoping for, but wishing it had been much later in their relationship or whatever had been building for this long. “And then what?”

“Well, then I'll know if I stay here or go back where I came from.” Sean wasn't holding back his answer simply because of Eric and the not-knowing. There were too many secrets and unknown factors not being added to the equation to make the question easier to answer.

Eric lifted his head a little, leaning heavily toward Sean as his fingers reached out to touch him. “—don't go. I don't want you to go.” He hadn't meant to sound desperate on a slight whisper, but there was no other way to speak with Sean being this close in proximity.

“I won't, for now.” Sean cupped and massaged the nape of Eric's neck and slid his hand over and down the shoulder blades and back. “You could change your mind, once you know the truth.”

“I doubt it.” Eric had finally taken his “moment” and sniffed at the cap when he had dramatically face-planted. He hated that it was still cold enough for Sean to need his wool cap back to ward off a chill. And he wasn't really that sentimental of a guy who needed to keep mementos of men he fell hard for. _Why now? Why Sean and nobody else?_ Not even his Ex. “But I can't explain why my first instinct is to trust you implicitly.”

“After tomorrow, nothing but honesty and truth.”

“I'd like that. And 'yes', I'll be at your house at 5am.”

Sean found himself combing back the dark brown hair, sweeping the loose strands behind an ear. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Eric stared for a long time at Sean, finally breaking down to give him a return smile. “Don't make me regret this.”

“I won't. I promise.” Sean had been noticing Eric had an affinity for his wool cap. Strange to be feeling that he never wanted to be an inanimate object more.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

When he was finally out of the office, the second to the last to leave before Cynthia, Brian got into the Stingray fully intending to head back to the loft, drown himself in alcohol and online contacts to invite someone— _anyone—_ over for a night of perversions and raunchiness. Michael hadn't called all day, even though he had been sitting on twenty or more voice-mails and text messages. Painful to think Michael could change that easily, after one amazingly profound night of anonymous sex and forget that he didn't have to totally adopt the Kinney attitude if he was choosing a life of promiscuity. Against his better judgment, and because he thrived on melancholy and self-pity, Brian checked his phone again to find out— _shocker!—_ that it was quite empty.

He chucked his cell into his jacket pocket, turning on the engine and backing out of the parking space faster than he should have. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go, but he passed the turn-off for the street he always used to get to the loft. He knew where he was heading once he was stopped at a red light. He grabbed the steering wheel with a questionable force as he peeled off in the direction of Red Cape. He thought about reconsidering this decision as he tried to find a parking spot along the street. He had to shoot down a side street, not that he would mind the extra time to cool down.

He walked to the end of the sidewalk, crossing when the light permitted and then turned left in order to head toward the comic book store's larger storefront. The old front door had been removed during remodeling, now the one door transformed into two and was flanked by huge store windows on either side, covered in a local painter's design depicting every superhero in creation—even RAGE and ZEPHYR. The interior lights were still on, but the number of customers dwindled the closer the hour came to closing. Brian opened one side of the double doors, the familiar jangle announcing his arrival. He caught the eye of the part-time evening employees; one looking him over— _suspect_ , the other was smiling at him— _in recognition_.

“Michael?” Brian had taken off his leather gloves, one eyebrow raised in question.

The young man behind the cash register pointed toward the back of the store. “Said he'd be in his office, but Pete just went up there to start closing the other register's drawer. I heard some noises in the bay; Michael could be there.”

The young woman— _the one who didn't know Brian—_ wandered over, still suspicious. “He's checking in some shipments in the back.” She lifted up the stack of comics in her arms. “He's got me stocking as he logs titles in.”

“Thanks.” Brian brushed through the aisles in the wake of listening to the conversation trailing behind his departure...

 **_“_ ** **_Who's that?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Mr. Kinney. Brian Kinney.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Who?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Don't worry. You'll get to know who he is soon enough.”_ **

Brian reached the large shipping/receiving doors that were covered in strips of rubber, or plastic, hanging down like vertical blinds. He pushed aside the strips, opening the swinging doors to fit through. He remembered when the “back of the store” looked more like a cramped, elongated office. The space had certainly been upgraded to give off a warehouse-feel. The bay door, where trucks pulled into, was halfway open to let in a cool evening breeze and music blared from a radio placed somewhere. Brian's gaze spun around the room and landed on the two windows cut out high on the warehouse wall where the management office sat. He noticed Pete standing at one of the windows, probably faxing reports to Michael's home office. As he paced through the stacks of merchandise, Brian could see the shipping/receiving tables, which was a U-shaped monstrosity, hand-made from raw pine. The computer gear being used was high-tech; this entire area was quite an advancement from Michael's tiny iMac desktop on his old register glass counter.

Brian paused in his approach, crossing his arms as he leaned into a pile of boxes ready to go out on the sales floor. He watched Michael work, as diligently and as eagerly as if he was just starting out. Michael used a box cutter to get into the taped cardboard, tipping out the comics, arranging them in order of their titles and checking those off on the invoice clipped to his clipboard. He would then take that information to one of the mainframe desktops that sat against the wall and enter in tallied numbers from a separate data-entry keypad. Apparently one of the VIN numbers wasn't scanning properly, so Michael had to bring over the scanner gun and look over what the invoice _stated_ to what he had been _sent_. Once he corrected the discrepancies, he put aside what was in his hand to look down at the actual comic book.

Brian could tell how Michael was still thrilled over new issues of comics; the satisfaction was in the goofy smile and the manner Michael carried his body while reading. It had been a very long time since Brian had witnessed Michael enjoying a comic book; Brian found himself smiling and softly laughing along with Michael.

Michael glanced up, turning his head as Brian pinched his lips to quiet. “eh—you caught me.”

Brian pushed off the boxes, only intending to reach the end of the long table Michael was using. “You gotta love what you do for a living or else why the fuck do all of _this_?” He spread his arms out to showcase the entirety of the warehouse room. He lowered his arms, tucking his hands away. “Besides, I have another 'beef' to pick with you.”

“oh?” Michael went back to the computer to finish entering the invoice information.

Brian wandered around the table, drawing up behind Michael and leaning a hip on the table ledge. “You completely bailed on me last night. Not nice.” To distract his emotions and show how much disinterest he had in his interest, he picked up a comic to quickly peruse through. “Mind explaining yourself?”

“Why?” Michael shrugged his shoulders. “You didn't seem to be starving for my company.”

“Had you not stormed off in a huff... I had been about to introduce you to the CEO of my new client.”

Michael went still, setting down the invoice to hit a particular button to update the inventory information. “My apologies then.” He didn't sound as deeply sorry as he wanted to be. “Had you told me— _beforehand—_ that you'd be running into this complete stranger—nah.” Michael refused to explain himself further. “You were already aware I was supposed to meet someone at Babylon. You chose to ignore me and blow me off, as usual.”

“I forgot.” Brian lost pretend interest in the comic, placing it back on its pile.

“No. You didn't take me seriously when I told you.”

“Michael, I—”

“ ** _Michael?!?_** ”

“ ** _Over here, Pete!_** ”

Pete weeded through the stacks of boxes, walking slower once he realized Michael wasn't alone, then recognizing it was Brian. “oh, hey—Brian. I thought Michael would be alone.”

Brian nodded his head, moving out of the way to step toward the other table. He hopped up to sit down on the smooth, unpainted wood surface. Pete wandered around the table Michael was at, showing Michael some paperwork, a single sheet he would need a signature on and then he began to walk backwards.

“I'll send them home a little early tonight. I'll watch the registers until it's time to close.”

“—'kay, Pete. Thanks. I'm almost done here. I'll be coming in early tomorrow to get a jumpstart on all this.” Michael gestured to the full skid of a backlog of received boxes still needing to be logged in as inventory.

“Do you need me to call in reinforcements?”

“nah. I'll have my usual crew once the day shift progresses.”

“All right. But call me if you happen to change your mind.”

“Will do.”

“I'm gonna close the bay door now.”

“uh, yeah. Forgot it was still open.”

“I'll buzz if I need any help out there on the floor.”

“Thanks again, Pete.” Michael closed the box flaps, re-taping it shut. He filled out an address label and stuck it on the top of the box. He slid the box down only to pick up another package to open.

Brian waited until Pete was no longer visible or within hearing distance. “You simply gonna ignore me an' hope I run away with my tail between my legs?”

“No, Brian. I'm gonna try to finish what I was doing so we can lock up this area and go talk in my office where it'll be a bit warmer and more private.”

“Sorry.” Brian let out a heavy sigh. “I would've called, but you're not willing to take my calls or do the decent thing and call me back after everything I've been leaving on your phone.”

“—Brian...”

“Whatever.” Brian wasn't going to argue now, in this huge room. He jumped down, starting to walk away. “I'll go up there, if you want, and wait for you.” He was already slipping off his jacket, turning a little to look at Michael as he drew further away. “Coffee still in the breakroom.”

“Yes.” Michael hadn't meant to chase Brian away, but he had been massively busy and wanting to reach a good stopping point before he called it quits.

“You want a cup?”

“I'd rather have tea.”

“I'll see what I can do for you.”

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

When Michael entered his private office, he contemplated shutting the door, maybe locking it. He didn't know why; he could have just wanted his private life to remain private. Brian had never shown to the store in such a way that caused Michael to immediately feel sensitive to others' opinions. Something brewing in the air tonight made Michael feeling differently; he knew the feeling could have everything to do with the night he spent with Hudson Lyle. Or should he say “Sean Lyle”? Michael felt like smiling at that bittersweet memory.

Brian looked at Michael as that particular smile came across Michael's face on the way to his desk. “Good news?”

“huh?”

“You looked— _momentarily_ —happy.”

Michael wasn't able to grasp how closely Brian watched his every move at times. It made him self-conscious because Brian always wanted to know why certain emotions were out of place. Brian never understood how a person could be sad, yet happy. Or how you could hate, yet manage to still love. For Brian, it was one single emotion, for one single moment. He would hit the feeling hard and constant all the time. Of course, in order to work through an awkward moment, to eventually reach that one emotion, Brian would bury it under niceties and charm. Almost like what Brian was doing now.

Michael had seen a bit of anger, the sarcastic “bite” ready to snap and snarl at anything Michael said that hit him wrong. Michael put down the file folder he had brought upstairs with him of paperwork and picked up the steaming mug with the seeping tea bag. “Thanks—for this.” Michael brought the ceramic rim to his lips to tentatively sip.

Brian refused to take a seat in the office, though there were plenty to chose from. He stood against the far wall, wondering why he was here and what had he hoped to accomplish by being here to simply antagonize Michael. “So this—guy... you know him well?” God, he didn't know one simple conversation could be so painful. The sad part was that he knew most of the answers. The hurt mostly came from watching Michael's reaction to the encounter.

“I've met him once or twice.” The last thing Michael wanted was to hear Brian rip to shreds how he met such a great guy.

Brian narrowed his eyes on Michael, crossing his arms over his chest. “You said a 'friend' had needed you. Who was that?”

Michael sighed, shoulders sagging as he placed his mug down on his desktop. He wasn't prepared for a fight like this so late in the evening after such a tiring day. “I said what I said to get out of there.” He weakly plopped down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I gave you an easy 'out'.” Michael took a long pause, wondering if Brian would pick up on that comment.

Brian snickered lightly, pushing off the wall to take the other chair beside Michael. He set down his coffee cup, sitting forward with elbows on his knees. “The irony being—I didn't want, or need, an 'out'.” He shot Michael a quick glance, then averted his head to give it a slow shake. “I may have liked the guy for his business, but that's where my interests stopped.” Brian couldn't believe he was actually sitting here, making excuses to Michael as if he had a reason to apologize. He sat back, setting his right ankle over his left knee. “I thought our night was going rather well. We had our old rhythm back. Last stop would be Babylon and—w _ho knew_ —we could've kept things going back at the loft... or your house.”

Now Michael was beginning to feel extremely sorry for his assumption, but old habits died hard. “Can you blame me, though? I've had _years_ of practice in the same scenario.” He watched Brian bring his hands together, palm to palm, and lift the fingers to rest against his face. “And every time— _except for last night_ —has ended with you bailing on me without an explanation.” Brian hadn't looked over at him once, keeping his head bowed as if in deep thought. “Me always being left for something— _someone_ —better.”

Brian was very aware of what he had done to Michael in the past. “This feels like giving me a taste of my own medicine.” He still wouldn't look at Michael, though he let a smirk slip out.

“Really?” Michael raised a dark eyebrow in bewilderment, not even allowing that kind of thought enter his brain then or even now.

“Yeah.” Brian nodded his head for emphasis.

“You like to imagine I think about you _that_ often?” It was bothering him to find out just how obsessive Brian could be. “That I'd care about seeking some kind of 'revenge' on you?”

Brian bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly fearful he might be beginning to overstep some boundaries Michael had set without his knowledge. It was odd to be scared that Michael may have simply lost all those intimate and loving feelings for him over time. “You never know. People do strange things when emotions run high or they're highly upset.”

“You— _maybe_. Everyone else— _sure_. But not me.” Michael rose out of his chair to walk across the room to reach the fax machine. “No. Last night was all about me and the man I was with. A nice change of pace.” He picked up the stack of paper to look over that had come through the fax during the day. Michael recognized a reorder sheet from a dealer he would typically use for some of the products he sold besides comic books. It was better to get a headstart on ordering in case items became out-of-stock.

Brian slumped a little in the chair, seething with boiling frustrations. It appeared as if Hudson Lyle had done too good of a job on Michael. “Who was he?”

“No one you know.” Michael sat against the long counter ledge. “— _thank God_. He just got into town.”

Brian turned only his head, looking over his shoulder to where he could almost see Michael standing. “So he's leaving soon? You had your... one nig—?” He couldn't even finish that last word.

“I don't know for sure if he's here for good or for a few days.” Michael took out a pen, clicking the ink well out. “We had a fabulous night together.” He stretched out the word “fabulous”. “Best one I've had since—well, forever.” He wasn't even about to compare the night with any of those moments with Brian. “And I think we might see each other again.”

Brian shook his head. “Then it _wasn't_ a one night stand.”

Michael shrugged one shoulder at a time. “Who gives a shit. I sure don't. Neither does he.” He twisted to set the paper down so he could read and write down the quantities he wanted on the reorder sheet. “We enjoyed one anothers'— _company_.” It was tough to know what vocabulary to use when he didn't feel like giving away any details to Brian.

Brian shot out of the chair, spinning around. “Christ, Michael, it's another fuckin' relationship!”

Michael finally zeroed his gaze on Brian, a bit startled by the near-volcanic anger. “So?”

“ ** _So_**?!?!” Brian started to walk toward Michael slowly. “You've been bitching and moaning over how you're done with men. How you're done with love.” He began to tick off the items on his fingers. “Relationships, commitment, faithfulness. How you're tired of being the only one who _wants_ —the only one who _feels_ strongly. You openly choose a life of debauchery and the first guy you fall into bed with _you make plans to see again_.” He had no idea he would turn this angry and upset over Michael possibly falling in love with a one night stand. Brian had planned to fake his feelings, but these were more real than he ever could've conjured up just for show.

Michael calmly put down his pen, twisting around to fold his arms over his chest. “I get to make the decisions in my life. If I want my random sex a little familiar that's my right.”

“It's _another_ boyfriend, Michael.”

“No it's not.” Michael didn't appreciate Brian's quick assumption that he would fall in love with every guy he went to bed with.

“Yes, it is. When it comes to you and men, I can bet you'll be 'in love' with him soon.”

“I won't.” Michael knew this for a fact.

“You will.” Brian tilted his head, gaze narrowing on Michael's face closely. “Unless... are you already feeling a bit 'in love' with him as we speak?”  
  
 ****

 **~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


	10. Chapter 10

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v163/sonnygrl/BrianMichael%20Cover%20Art/?action=view&current=TheBeautifulOnesChap10Banner.jpg)

  
  
****

Michael hung his head, not knowing what he had to do or say to get Brian to let this topic go. “I told you—amazing night with a great guy... best night of my life.” He kept trying to say the same phrases over and over in his head out loud.

Brian was approaching Michael's personal space. “Why?”

“hmm?”

“Why do you keep doing _that_?”

“Wha—what do you mean?” Michael averted his head the closer Brian neared.

“You keep confusing love with sex.” Brian forced his hands to fill his trouser pockets, for fear he'd do something rash with his hands—like touch Michael or pull him to his chest. “Like in order to have it— _great sex_ —you have to give your heart away first.”

Michael rubbed his hand over the side of his face, feeling his skin go hot with a flush. “You should try it— _once_.”

“What?” Brian stopped directly in front of Michael, his hands forming fists in the pockets. “Give away my heart?”

“No.” Michael was able to lift his head for only a while, then dropped his chin. “Have sex with someone you genuinely care for... an' love.”

“Justin doesn't count?”

“How was the sex?” Michael felt his body tighten in annoyance over the mention of Justin.

Brian took a hard swallow as he looked down at Michael's bent head. “Elementary. Decent but not that great.” He didn't think this was a time for cool bravado, only truth.

Michael shook his head. “Then that's not even close.”

“Are you offering yourself to me?”

“No. I'm jus' sayin'—”

“—you'd be _it_ for me.”

“huh?” Michael raised his chin, looking up into darkening hazel eyes.

“If you had to make me choose— _right now_ —who I'd have sex with that I genuinely care for... love—” Brian pulled out only one hand, reaching up to brush off an invisible piece of lint or fuzz off Michael's shirt. He needed some excuse to touch Michael. “—it'd be you... _always_.”

Michael closed his eyes as Brian cupped his face, bringing their faces closer. He lifted his hands to latch onto Brian's wrists. “—don't—please...”

“What? Am I too late?”

“No. I jus'...” Michael opened his eyes, staring at Brian's throat and collarbone. He could see the quickening pulse on the carotid artery. His eyes trailed upward to the chin and jawline, fingers caressing over the jutting structure, then skimming the bottom lip. Michael's eyes were now on Brian's mouth, how it opened— _partway_ and allowed him to see the tips of stark white teeth. That one inverted front tooth, to the side, made everything come into focus. “... screw this...” Michael growled out as he knocked away Brian's grip and wrapped an arm around Brian's head, keeping a hand under the jaw. He was tired of lame excuses, tired of waiting and tired of wanting... so he took without question. His lips met Brian's hard and sound, unlike other times when it was affectionate or appeasement.

Michael knocked Brian off balance as they fell to lean on the low counter cabinetry that held the fax machine and other office equipment. Brian made noises under his throat, not knowing where to place his hands; he wanted the kissing and caressing to keep going on. He finally placed his hands on Michael's back, sliding them down to the waist— _which was now a bit thicker yet compact_ —and he sent his fingers bending and crawling up bare skin. Michael stood on tip toes, both arms now secure about Brian's neck as he offered his throat out, turning a little to sit down on the flat surface of the counter top. He slid a few items out of their way. Michael trailed a hand across broad shoulders, over the broad chest and down the torso to tug on Brian's waistband.

They still kissed, soft pecks and long, wet licks against skin. Once Brian saw Michael's hands move down, he brought his own hands around and worked on Michael's button and zipper; Michael deftly undid the leather belt and unzipped the trousers. The jean material fell as low as Michael's legs were situated; they squeezed the outer area of Brian's mid-thigh. One jiggle and the trouser material pooled on the floor. Michael tightened his legs, grabbing onto Brian to lift off the counter surface; Brian had an under-grip of briefs and denim, giving a long yank to pull down the clothes, at least to Michael's knees. Michael leaned backward, hitting the wall as Brian bent forward, his head nudging Michael's head.

“Don't—” Brian found himself too out-of-breath to talk coherently. “—don't fall in love— _with him_... just _don't_...”

Michael's dark brown eyes scanned Brian's averted face, nodding his head slowly in agreement. “I promise...” It broke his heart to knowingly lead Brian astray, fully aware that Brian's heart was fragile enough, his emotions in disarray. Michael slid off the wall as Brian tenderly pushed the rest of the clothing down his legs.

They both worked themselves out of their shoes. Brian stepped out of his trousers as he helped yank the jeans and underwear fully off. Planting a palm to the counter top, Brian bent over to kiss Michael's lips, cupping and touching his cheek. Michael set his legs high, hands tugging down Brian's tight boxer briefs. They started to heavily breathe into one another's mouth and face as naked flesh and heated cocks brushed incidentally.

“ _oh.my.god._ ”

Michael surrounded his hands around Brian's face. “Stay with me. Don't go.” He was afraid Brian would get scared and scurry away. He lowered one hand along Brian's body, fingers opening along the lower back until he reached the upper curve of the left ass cheek. “Just move against me. I don't need much right now to get off.”

Brian was stunned to find that it was the same for him. The second their stiff lengths poked and prodded he thought he would come, and come hard and fast. He knew what Michael was talking about and he couldn't help but silently agree that for their first time rubbing against each other would suffice at this short notice. He hated that they were on a hard surface—well, Michael was. Brian unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, askewing to loosen his tie and took off the tank-t and suit shirt in one flourish. Michael rose to take off his own shirt, a nice Polo with a Red Cape logo over the right breast.

As Michael sat up and Brian was standing upright, they could now look at and admire each others bodies. Michael caressed with hands, kissed with wet lips and a little tongue; Brian tilted his head, looking down at the dark head on his body. He brought up a hand to brush through Michael's hair, bussed a cheek and soothed a knuckle from temple to jaw. While Michael suckled and bit on a nipple, Brian let out a breath through clenched teeth as he reached down with one hand and began stroking Michael's semi-hard cock. Nuzzling Michael's dark locks, Brian did the same with his own erection. He bumped chest and shoulders with Michael, quietly asking him to move backward—to lay down on his back.

Brian palmed a strong thigh with his free hand to help Michael slide down on the soft bed of their pile of shirts. Michael let out a light chuckle, catching Brian's smile as he dipped forward and snagged a deep, rough kiss. Brian placed his palm flat on the table top again, letting go of his cock to thrust forward, his length rubbing up and to the side of Michael's hand. Michael sent out his free hand to take Brian's cock. He canted, rolling his hips. They kissed, brushing cheeks and nudging heads as Brian stroked them to a distinct rhythm. The steady ease of their movements lulled them into pleasure, then instantly stoked the embers of the burning fires deep within.

Michael let go to settle his arms up and out, their cocks trapped between their bodies as they increased their thrusting. Brian kissed and nuzzled with his nose along Michael's upper body and chest, sending his hands along smooth biceps and over pale forearms to pin the wrists down. He was pounding harder and faster now, his bottom flexing with each action. Michael seemed to be fighting, struggling with his hands to be set free, but he was only attempting to loosen the hold so he could thread his fingers with Brian's. Turning his head, Michael brought over their bond and leaned his brow against Brian's forearm. Brian halo-ed Michael's head with both arms, merging his own brow to the side of Michael's face. They lay equal, body part to body part, and as Brian decreased his thrusts, he paused at one point and pulled back to push in again. This time he ejaculated a series of orgasms as he bit down on his lips to suppress his cries of pleasure. As he lay there, limp and sticky-sweaty on top of Michael, Michael started to frantically roll his hips against Brian and arced backward on his own releases. Michael continued to move as Brian's hands loosened their hold completely, his fingers moving over Brian's back, swiping at the collecting moisture on the skin. He was riding out another, smaller inner orgasm and managed to slow down to a complete stop once he was fully satiated.

Brian remained still, unmoving, atop Michael; Michael knew he was conscious by the frenzied heartbeat and the puffs of hot breath along his neck. Michael brought up a hand to brush through the wet hair, then tugged on the back of Brian's head. He turned to meet Brian's gaze and found a face full of confusion and hazel eyes stunned with bewilderment. Michael scraped knuckles down Brian's cheek, over open lips, as he pouted. “This doesn't have to mean anything.”

Brian hated that, being handed an easy out. “Too late.” He grabbed for Michael's hand, kissing the inside of the palm and wrist. He squeezed the fingers, then kissed Michael soundly. “I'm not gonna stake my claim, like I'm some kind of 'boyfriend'. But I mean it—if you still wanna see this—guy... fine. Just _don't.fall.in.love._ ” Brian gently caressed Michael's cheek, trailing his hand down the torso as he let kisses match touch. He stood to pull Michael upright with him. He handed Michael his own shirt, then shook out his tank-t from the crumpled suit shirt. Brian looked down at himself to find barely any semen left, except around the shaft's head. As he wiped that off, he noticed Michael was looking at his own body, then behind him as he searched for something to wipe all the gathered come off his skin and the counter under his bare ass. They both started chuckling lightly as Brian handed Michael the dirty tank-t.

“Keep it. I have more at the loft.” Brian picked up his briefs, tucking his semi-hardness away, then reached down to put on his trousers.

Michael had jumped down, cleaning off the counter and throwing away the tank-t. He snatched up his underwear, jeans and shoes, walking completely naked toward his desk. Michael wasn't shy or embarrassed about being exposed to Brian's eyes. Brian had been turning, having slipped both arms into the sleeves of his suit shirt, working the material over his head and down his torso. He watched Michael's profile, how the flaccid cock lay on the bed of dark pubic hair, the thighs flexing as briefs were donned and then the jeans. He watched the muscles and tendons of Michael's back twist and contract as he slipped the Polo shirt back on to cover his nakedness. Michael dropped the shoes on the desk to put on later. Brian tucked his shirt in as he slid feet back into his loafers. Pretty soon it appeared as if nothing had gone on in this office between them; they were on opposites sides of the room, averting their gazes from one another.

Brian tugged his shirt cuffs down past the jacket sleeves and fixed his tie to only fit under his collar. He left it askew. “I'll call you later.”

“Okay.” Michael crossed his arms and leaned against one of the chairs flanking his desk. He kept his head bent, rubbing at his cheek. He closed his eyes, sighing heavily with easy acceptance. When he reopened his eyes, Michael could see the tips of Brian's shoes. As he raised his chin, Brian's hand fit over his cheek, sliding into his hair.

They did what was natural for them; they kissed. But this time there was a pressure to the kissing that almost proclaimed— _you're mine_. Both of them did it, but neither of them wanted to admit they could be _that_ possessive.

Brian exited the office after that, with a parting caress on Michael's face. Michael waited until his door shut before he touched his own cheek and plopped down, utterly exhausted, in a chair.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Sean pulled up to the curb across the lawn from Eric's house. Eric had been quiet the last hour of the ride, resting his head back with eyes closed for a little more than half-n-hour. Sean turned off the engine instead of letting it run idle. He climbed out of the driver's side as Eric woke and realized where they were. Eric immediately opened his door, sliding down to shake his legs out as he stood. He moved to open the back passenger door behind him to get the unexpected foods and gifts he had been given earlier today. Sean was already up on the curb, on the manicured grass, holding the door for Eric; the front passenger door had been shut by Sean.

As Eric carried the food in one hand, the gift bag hanging off the fingers of his other hand, he moved to the sidewalk to face Sean. “I'd shake your hand but I don't have one to spare.”

“C'mon, let me walk you to your door.” Sean was walking ahead, prepared to supervise and hold something once Eric had to dig for his keys.

Eric let out a soft sigh, blinking slowly to keep his patience held firm. He followed behind Sean along the walkway and up the steps onto the small porch. He was able to pull out his keys rather swiftly from his coat pocket. Eric was fitting the key into the lock, hoarding his body between door molding and the screen door. He was obvious about willing to give Sean a rushed “goodbye” right where they stood.

Sean was a little heartbroken to be brushed off, but understood. Today had been a lot for Eric to take in, but at least the truth was out there. **_All of it_**. Even why he was in Pittsburgh. “I guess it'd be presumptuous of me to assume you'd invite me in.”

Eric grabbed the handle and threw open the front door paneling, loosing control of the screen door. Sean caught the shape, holding it wide on the springs with his shoulders and back. “Sean, I...”

Sean put up a hand. “I get it. I do. You've had enough for today. Need to process.” He gave out a tiny smile of hope. “Maybe you're even tired of me.” He made weird faces to show how much he couldn't stand himself either. Sean knew he was an intense person at times. “All day... and in a car. I don't blame you.”

Eric had to smile because the feelings he was holding onto were jumbled and fierce, liable to cause Sean a lot of hurt and pain. Sean didn't need that right now, neither of them needed a moment like that with the day they had shared. Then with the lives they had both led on their minds as well. Though Eric was upset and angry, he still found himself liking Sean, admiring him, respecting him... _wanting him_. But if he learned one thing from his past relationship, he would need space. Lots of it. And plenty of time to ruminate in that space. “Hold on, I need to—” Eric was only going to put the things in his hands in the kitchen close-by to the entryway. He had climbed up and walked over the threshold as Sean allowed the screen door shut.

“Nah, it's okay, man.” Sean lifted his hand again in a small wave, giving off a wider smile and then quickly ran down the steps to head toward his car.

Eric was faster unloading the stuff as he called out to Sean. “ ** _Wait!! Sean!!_** ” He let the screen door slam shut as he hurriedly chased after Sean.

Sean was turning as Eric came to a sudden stop. Both of them standing there, eyes watchful and connecting with one another, their arms dangling by their sides. Eric reached out to grab Sean's hand, but Sean surrounded his other arm around Eric's waist, pulling him flush with his chest. He tilted his head and dove in to take Eric open lips. The pressure was hard and rough at first, but then Eric placed his hands around Sean's head. He tugged off the wool cap, fingers shaping the shaved skin as he slid his palms around to the back of Sean's head. The intensity became softer, almost tender and affectionate. Eric was loosely resting his forearms on Sean's shoulders, letting his arms dangle down the strong back locking about the tall frame.

Eric broke away first, leaning his brow on Sean's cheek. He exhaled on a light, airy laugh. “Damn... I forgot what I came out here to say.”

“I think I have _some_ idea.” Closing his eyes, Sean brought his other arm around, locking fingers around his wrist. “You don't have to say it.” The way Eric had run after him was enough of a sign Eric's feeling hadn't dissipated, only flourished into something more. Something Sean could one day work with to turn into feelings of affection and want.

Eric slowly lowered his feet back onto solid ground, placing one hand flat to Sean's chest, over his right breast. “I'd be telling you this anyway had we been into our normal therapy day.”

“Kids?”

“Yeah. From Friday— _tomorrow_ —until Monday morning.” Eric watched Sean nod, reopening his eyes to draw backward with one of those disarming smirks. He didn't want to let Sean go— _not after a soul-shattering kiss like that_. He reluctantly dropped his arms, watching Sean loosen his own arms off his body. “I'll call you next week.”

Sean nodded his head, pulling away further as he gave a final squeeze to Eric's hand. “G'night, Eric.”

“—'night, Sean.” Eric watched Sean circle the car and climb back into the driver's seat. He was a little disappointed Sean didn't look back at him or wave.

Eric moved down to where the curved walkway from his porch met the dip of the road and curb, so maybe Sean could see him as a small disappearing dot in the rearview mirror. He blinked slow as he coughed into his hand, still feeling the vibrations of his lips. His body hadn't hummed like that in years. Eric couldn't recall the last time someone had kissed him with _that_ much passion, unbridled want and need bubbling at the cusp.

“ _... oh, damn._ ” Eric didn't know how he got back into his house, shutting the door and remembering to lock it. He simply leaned back on the paneling and slid down to sit on the floor to catch his breath. He hadn't realized he had been holding it since Sean had driven away.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Emmett and Ted were doing there typical, uneventful daily run on the treadmill when they spotted Eric with a familiar gym member and waved a greeting.

 **_“_ ** **_Wow.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_What?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_I don't know. Eric just doesn't seem like his usual self.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_He seems fine to me.”_ **   
**_“o_ _h, yeah, when he's working out with people or doing his job. Watch him while he's walking across the room.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Don't bother, Em.”_ **   
**_“h_ _uh?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_I think it's pretty clear that Eric isn't interested in any male specimens living in The Pitts.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_I know. I realize he's been burned in the past by that Ex of his, but he's gotta be—you know—getting' a serious case of blue balls.”_ **   
**_“o_ _h, come on. I doubt Eric could benefit at all with your sex-pertise. I'm sure if he wanted sex he could have any guy he wanted. Ones that you know would never give us the time of day.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Well, if I can't worry about Eric, can I worry about Michael?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Why would you want to?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Are you kiddin' me? Three dates with this 'Hudson-guy', and that's not even counting the first one that lasted until the next morning.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_He still hasn't told me what happened. Has he said anything to you?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_No. All I get is this weird smile and his voice goes soft, then he says 'best night of my life—ever'.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Man, that must've been some mind-numbing sex they had.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_The one good thing is—it shook Brian off of Michael.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Yeah—wait, you say that like the rest is somehow bad.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Think about it—Ben did some kind of number on Michael, which I'm sure triggered the splendid memories of what happened with David. Michael secluded himself for weeks, almost months, and when he finally resurfaced he was like Bad-Ass Mikey with a stone-cold heart. He'll fuck anything that moves and he rejects the idea of falling in love.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_You'd think Brian would be rejoicing. Kinney 2.0.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_It's because he sees what we see. It's all a 'cover', a 'rouse' to make us think he's doing better.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_So... he's not better?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_He is, in small ways. But I think he's lost, trying to find something—someone—to hold onto to tell him who he is. Or to maybe reassure him he's exactly where, and who, he's supposed to be.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Hence the friendship with Eric. And now this—whatever—with this 'Hudson-guy'.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Sorry, Teddy, but I think we've worn-out our ability to know what Michael needs—or wants—to be happy. Even simply satisfied in his life.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_I don't blame him. Sometimes the best remedy for what ails you is to talk to a stranger. Find a commonality in each other and, hopefully, bond on a baser human level and attempt to heal.”_ **

Ted realized Emmett had been staring at him as he talked. “What?”

“Nothing.” Emmett smirked, shaking his head. “I couldn't have said it better myself.”

 **_“u_ _h-oh.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_What?”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Ten o'clock. On your left. I haven't seen Brian workout by himself since...”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_... ever. Should we—?”_ **

Ted's eyes went wider, watching as Eric looked over at Brian, then thought to approach him. “Nah, it looks like someone else had the same idea.”

“Wha—?” Emmett's eyes connected with the sight of Eric wandering from gym member to gym member to end up reaching Brian. “Oh, my. I don't know whether to keep on running or buy myself a box of popcorn.”

“ssshhh... if we're quiet enough, maybe we could hear some of what they're saying.”

“oooo... this should be good.”

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian had seen Eric's approach from a few gym equipment pieces over. He went on to lift himself by the two bars at his side and pushed down with his feet. Ten reps later, he paused. “Can I help you?”

“nah.” Eric planted his feet wide apart, crossing his arms over his chest. It was his usual pose with gym customers. “Question would be better the other way around.”

“oh?” Brian lifted a sole eyebrow in curiosity, already knowing the general topic Eric would bust his balls about.

“Word of advice?”

Brian reached for his small hand towel to wipe at his perspiring face. “Not really, but I suppose you'll give it anyway.”

Eric narrowed his gaze. “You remind me of one of my ex-boyfriends.” He used an index finger to point to Brian's features, then the rest of his lean, willowy frame. “Not in looks, mind you, but more of the whole ' _I'm-invincible-I-can-fuck-and-fuck-with-anyone-I-so-choose_ '.” By the time he finished with his explanation, he was using both hands to shape the air to mean Brian's aura or his persona.

“And that's a bad thing?” Brian wrinkled his brow in perplexity, not quite understanding what Eric' final point would be for this conversation.

Eric went back to folding his arms in defiance over his chest. “It is when it hurts someone I genuinely care for.” He had meant Michael, but he could also mean what Brian had done to Sean as well. Kinney had expertly used both the men Eric cared for in his life. The audacity alone of Brian showing his face around him was profound.

“Stand in line.” Brian snorted out a hard chuckle as he threw the hand towel over his shoulder, pulling up the hem of his wet tank-t to scratch at bare skin over his hip. The elastic waist band of his shorts was rubbing him raw. “There's someone ahead of you for the role of Michael's boyfriend.”

Eric had to bite his lip; he knew the truth. He knew that Brian had hired Sean to seduce Michael, but he also knew what Brian _didn't_ know. Eric had promised Sean— _after full disclosure_ —that he wouldn't tell Brian anything, keeping the real truth secret. It was mind-boggling to notice that Brian wasn't as pissed as people assumed he would be since his “plan” had failed. “It's all right if Michael is worth the fight.”

Brian sat down on the equipment's cushion seat. “If you were really as good of a friend as you think, and you like him as you say you do, I would be steppin' all over the other guy's toes.” He wasn't going to deny Eric cared for Michael, but he wasn't comprehending why Eric was all over his shit when he and Michael hadn't seen one another since—well, since the night in Michael's Red Cape office. Hudson Lyle was already three dates heavy into his romance with Michael. “Right now he's way ahead of you.”

Eric furrowed his brow, tilting his head to look down at Brian and saw that he was quietly frustrated with more than he was willing to admit. “I'd think the one with more power and control over Michael would be _you_ , Brian.”

“You'd be wrong.” Brian averted his head and eyes.

“Why do you do _that_?” Eric shook his head with a measure of confusion and bewilderment.

“What?” Brian had to softly snicker because Eric was instantly becoming wary and unsure of why he was exactly talking to him. Like he was slowly inching away from confidence, losing courage.

“Give up so easily with him.” Eric couldn't identify it before, but he could see it clearly now. “Strange, because I wouldn't think you were that person who'd let someone walk all over him. Or lets that same someone steal the man you love away.” He frowned when he heard Brian snickering harder, under breath. “I had no idea I was that hilarious.”

“You're not. This whole— _situation_ is.” If he could, Brian would bust out with a few gut-wrenching sobs. For now, he would suffice with laughing at his own stupidity, getting caught in his own trap.

It suddenly struck Eric upside the head that what he was noticing was a _defeated_ Brian, willing to concede a loss but still trying to hold on to a semblance of power. Maybe a belief that Michael felt the same way. Now Eric was feeling bad for Brian. What he feared was that Brian would give up and, like always, walk away. “Look... I know you don't know me from Adam. In fact, I'm nobody to you without Michael being in the picture. But— _jesus_...” He rubbed at his chin, looking out the wall of windows to the outside world. “... it amazes me how much you _don't_ 'see', being around him nearly every day. Granted, you two have had some bumps and bruises—” Eric brought out one hand to gesture to Brian and then roll around in mid-air as he spoke. “... some spats and fights, you've gone off to lick your wounds and yet look at you, and him. You two can't let go or move on completely. It'd be tough— _trust me, I know_ — but my situation was different.”

Eric cleared his throat, tucking his arm back into the fold of his other arm. “ _He_ was toxic to me; I found out ** _I_** was better 'me' _without_ him.” He furrowed his brow as he stared down at Brian's ever-changing facial expression as he went on. “I don't claim to know your relationship with Michael well enough to exactly label it 'toxic'—maybe _unhealthy_ in some ways, but the difference is... you're both better— _happier_ —when the other is around. I don't know what _that_ is, but I know it's _rare_. It's like a fuckin' unicorn, man.” Eric laughed when Brian snorted out a loud chuckle. “It's kind of a beautiful thing, if you ask me. You make all us Gays jealous with what you already have.” For once, he was speaking seriously with Brian. “Takes us years to find what you have with Michael. And sometimes we don't even find it. So, just— _why do you keep_ —? _Why do you_ —?”

“ _Why am I such an asshole?_ ” Brian smirked form one side of his mouth, finally understanding the point Eric had been trying to make with him.

“ ** _YES!_** ” Eric pointed at Brian, chuckling deeply and quite loudly. “ ** _Exactly!_** ”

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

**_“_ ** **_oh, my... that can't be good.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_It's like we found a Yeti in the woods.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Or a unicorn.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_No one would believe us.”_ **   
**_“_ ** **_Not even if we took pictures.”_ **

It didn't take long before Ted and Emmett were distracted from the sight of Eric and Brian actually getting along, almost becoming fast friends. Their duo of eyes followed the perfect body and ass that walked in front of their row of treadmills.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Michael picked up the two ceramic cups and saucers, balancing them in either hand as he walked back to the small corner table he was seated at with Sean. “Here ya go. Fresh an' piping hot.”

“Thanks, Michael.” Sean hunched over the table surface, grabbing sugar packets as Michael used the creamer.

Michael reached out to latch onto Sean's wrist, right at the cuff and sleeve of his suit. “It was a beautiful ceremony. If that's not weird to say at all.” He used the container of real cane sugar and stirred his hot tea. “Thanks for inviting me to come with you.” He was letting the bag seep more into the hot water.

“Yes, it _was_ gorgeous. And no, it's not weird at all to say.” Sean let out a sweet smile, despite his inner agony. “And— _you're welcome_.” He shook his head slowly as he thought over the memories plaguing him since they had left the service hours ago. “Enough pomp and circumstance they _both_ would've liked.” Sean had enjoyed informing Michael of his two best friends for most of the day before they had arrived at the church.

“You know, I don't remember much about my uncle's funeral.” Michael took a hard swallow, watching his hand swirl the spoon in the dark tea. “I recall the moment I found him, the need I felt that I _had_ to be the one to tell Ma about him passing.” He lifted his head to stare over at Sean, who was already gazing intently at him. “I briefly remember being at Ma' house, but then—all I see is the casket lowering into the ground.”

Sean nodded his head in agreement, swallowing his sip of hot coffee. “I barely got through Dustin's service. It was... _conventional_. Not like him.” He made a scowl on his face at the painful memory. “When everything was over, as he passed away during the night, his sisters were on it like it was their own funeral.” Sean raised both eyebrows in mild shock, still heavily affected by what had gone on right over his head, under his nose. And he couldn't put a stop to it. “I was surprised they actually allowed him to be cremated, the way _he_ wanted. After they put on the 'show' for friends and family, they didn't care what we did with his ashes.”

Michael cleared his throat as he squeezed the tea bag over his mug, setting spoon and bag to the side on the saucer. “So when will they take Franco back West?” It amazed him to quiet solace that there were so many decent family members, and close friends, willing to carry out the 'last wishes' of Sean's friends, a long-time married gay couple. Both who had died, one after the other. Sean had met them three years ago as Dustin had become one of his clients and happened to change his life forever.

“They'll start out in two days.” Sean couldn't help the small grin from slipping out. He wished he could go along on the trip to carry both Dustin and Franco's ashes to their _least_ favorite place in the world. “Franco's little brother and Dustin's cousin. You met her at the ceremony.”

“oh, yeah.” Michael nodded his head, after sipping at his tea. “Cute girl. Dustin and Franco must've really liked Catalina a lot.”

“No.” Sean sat back in his chair, chuckling softly. “It's actually funny because the first time they went— _complete disaster_.” He smirked when Michael joined in with his own laughter. “Franco swore he almost drowned, but Dustin was quick to remind him that he had a life vest on the whole time.”

“They _still_ went back?” It seemed rather outrageous, yet sentimentally sweet that this couple would wish to be commemorated in a place that only brought them terrible memories. At least Sean had told him their ashes would be set out over the water in Catalina.

“They were bound and determined to enjoy the _hell_ out of a vacation off the coast of California. Too many of their friends kept boasting about its beauty and dynamic riches for the soul.” Sean rolled his eyes because he remembered having extra-long conversations with both Dustin and Franco over how annoyed they were with how over-played Catalina had become for them. They wanted to go out of spite, more than anything. And because of that purpose, none of their trips out there had gone right.

“oh dear God...” Michael placed a hand over his mouth to stem his need to pick apart a generalized sense of opinions. He and Brian often had to deal with people like that in their lives. He even recalled the few times, while in couplehood with David and Ben, running into other couples who boasted about shitty vacation places.

“Exactly.” Sean leaned his head back against the wall, sighing as he let the envy he always felt for his two friends. “I think— _for them, as it always was_ —they enjoyed everything they did because they were together.”

Michael nearly choked on his swallow of hot tea. His voice was soft, hushed. “I know how they feel.”

Sean let his gaze transfer from outside to look directly at Michael. “Thinking of Brian?”

“How can I not?” Michael rubbed at his face, keeping his hand on his cheek.

“He's a lucky man.” Sean sat forward again, taking a sip of his coffee. “And a fool.”

“Hey...” Michael tenderly shoved at Sean's arm on the table. “... it's why I still care, though some days I don't know why I do.”

“At least it's not just the memories that hold you two together.” Sean liked watching Michael when he talked about Brian Kinney. It showed how Michael truly felt about his best friend. Sean had noticed it in gay men who genuinely loved the men they did; he saw it in Dustin and Franco over the years he had known them.

Michael furrowed his brow with some deep concern. “It's getting tougher to talk and have random conversations without keeping secrets.” He didn't mean because of this situation with Sean, but more along the lines of his own life with Ben, and the past with David.

Sean looked down at his cup, watching the liquid sit still. “The older we get, the more we tend to look around to take stock of who we are and what's left.” He knew he would be doing a shit-ton of soul-searching once he met back up with Franco. Thank God Sean had one more day before Franco had walked toward his “light” a few days ago.

“I'm scared I'll be alone.” Michael felt emotion choke his throat. He didn't mind being achingly honest with Sean. They had begun their relationship on such a level of intimacy, it seemed a shame to not keep that level of intensity between them. Michael had needed a seriously close confident to confess to, since he couldn't really say much to Brian these days. Especially when he wanted to talk about Brian.

“Me too.” Without even a thought, Sean reached out to lay his hand over the curl of Michael's hand on the table surface. “But I think we all are, in some way.” He let his hand rub down along Michael's wrist to settle at the cuff of the sport coat jacket.

Michael brought over his other hand to lay on top of Sean's to squeeze their bond. “I realize I won't be _completely_ alone, but friends and family are different.” He shook his head at how naïve he had been, thinking people could replace feelings that had vanished. Life had definitely sent him some curve balls over the years, not turning out how he once thought. “Even having a child doesn't alleviate the silence or some of the darkness.”

Sean chuckled softly with a shake of his head. He didn't like hearing such cynicism in Michael. “Michael, you've got quite a long ways to go before she turns 18.”

“I know, but it's different in my situation.” Michael pat Sean's hand, then pulled both of his away to sit back in his chair. “If Melanie can pick up and leave, taking Jenny to Canada, what's stopping her from running again?” He shrugged one shoulder, wishing he had an easy answer. “This time abroad— _like France or Italy_. It's like a constant fear of losing Jenny and it's out of my hands.” Michael sent both of his hand through the air as if showing Jenny slipping through his fingers, out of his grasp, out of his reach. “I contest or complain, I speak up... I'm being a bully and stepping all over a hard-working single mother's rights.” He wished someone had told him how difficult it would be to father a child with a woman he didn't love.

Sean frowned with a bit of worry. He wanted it to be easier for both Michael and Eric to be with their kids. They both were great men and fabulous fathers. “Did it seem like you could've had a chance to appeal for sole custody when you were with Ben?”

“I could have, if Ben didn't see Jenny as only _my_ child.” Michael sighed, shaking his head. He didn't want to lay blame on Ben. Michael had give up too easily. “She was _my_ issue to solve. He had settled on not having kids of his own, so he couldn't even bear the pregnancy with Jenny. He was okay once she was here, because what kind of an idiot hates a baby. But then— _I don't know_.” Michael never knew how to explain Ben's weird sense of what “family” had meant. “Jenny was _mine_ , Hunter was _his_. Never the twain shall meet.”

“Did he at least back you with Melanie?”

“Sometimes. Other times he tried to convince me it might be easier to give in and walk away.”

“Is that why you let her go to Toronto with your daughter?”

“Partly. At the time, Melanie and Lindsay— _the mother of Brian's son, Gus_ —were together. I was going to follow Brian's lead.”

“You thought he'd say 'no'.”

“I _hoped_ he'd say 'no', put up a fight. Deep down I knew he'd let Gus go.”

Sean nodded his head, understanding where a man like Brian Kinney was coming from when it came to his own child. “The idea that he's not good enough. His son would be better off.”

“Yes. I knew he'd regret the decision.” Michael shrugged both shoulders, staring down at the table and his cup of tea. “I don't know, maybe he thought ** _I_** would be the one to put my foot down, make a _bigger_ stink.” He had been the one to be more interested in fatherhood with both Gus and Jenny's births.

“But they came back anyway, right?”

“Mel did. Permanently. Linds is still in transit.”

“She still has custody of Gus?”

“Yeah, but she's been kind enough to make the trips back down so Brian can see him.” Michael shook his head, making a disapproval face as he didn't appreciate Lindsay making Brian feel as if it had been his fault she had to travel so much. “They don't have much time to spend together and, well, Gus is growing so fast while he's away. Brian's almost assured he'll eventually hate him.”

Sean glanced at Michael with a half-smile. “I'm glad I took the chance on you when I did. Anyone who can tolerate Kinney's bullshit— _like you do_ —and manages to find something like-able in the guy. You have amazing strength, stamina and courage.”

Michael was touched by Sean's words, and appreciation. Not many people admired him for sticking by Brian Kinney all these years. It was a nice change. “I'm happy you trusted in me enough to dispel the whole truth and we didn't have this scheme of Brian's holding us back from being our _real_ selves with one another.”

“Do you still wanna go through with duping him into thinking we've hit it off? Better than he could've hoped for?” Sean lifted one eyebrow, waiting for Michael's answer.

**~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


	11. Chapter 11

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“I don't know. Brian's has been... keeping distant from me. I'm not sure if this plan of ours worked too well—or what.” Michael sipped at his tea. “Have you tried contacting him?” He glanced over at Sean, then immediately dropped his gaze not wanting his true feelings to be recognized.

“Goes to voice-mail. Every time.” Sean shrugged his shoulders, simply because he wasn't truly as hooked on Brian at the moment. His concentration was elsewhere—on someone else. “I'm keeping away until I know what you want the next move to be.”

“Thank you.” Michael was touched beyond words that Sean was being incredibly sweet and understanding to him. “You could've been a cold-hearted bastard about this.”

Sean raised his hands up as he pushed back from the table. “Hey, it's the nature of my world. I'm a puppet with many, _many_ strings.”

“I wish you'd have allowed me to help you with Eric.” Michael bent his right elbow and set it down to rest his cheek on the hand as he longingly glanced over at Sean. He could tell that all throughout the service that Sean was missing more than just his best friend who passed away.

“No!” Sean adamantly shook his head to decline the offer. “Let that work on its own. He's already—I felt the change when I kissed him after dropping him off.” He crossed his arms over his chest, resting back in his chair. “He would've invited me in, but he needed space. I _want_ to give him that. I _owe_ him that.”

Michael nodded his head in acceptance but still felt that he owed Sean a huge debt of gratitude. “One conversation with me an' he'll know about our non-one night stand.”

“Don't. ** _I_** wouldn't, even if someone held a gun to my head.” Sean turned to look at Michael with a slight lift to the corner of his mouth. “But if you feel you need to admit what we did, or didn't do, to Brian, that's your business.” He cleared his throat and reached out to bring his coffee mug to his lips and drink. “It takes a lot for most people to understand what I _really_ do.” Sean put down the mug on the coaster, then gently pushed the ceramic around on the table. He kept his eyes averted to the liquid in his cup. “At times, _yes_ , I do escort clients— _yes_ , I do become sexually intimate on a regular basis with most. But the true nature of what I do is indescribable—part-time therapist, full-time psycho-analyst.” He lifted his gaze to look intently into Michael's steady gaze. “I'm an attentive lover. I'm their best friend. I'm their boyfriend. I'm their confessor, of sorts. I'm whomever I need to be to make my client satisfied.”

“But... you're _nothing_ like who I pictured what a professional escort to be.”

Sean smiled broadly, lifting his chin up in high confidence. “You imagined me like a 'hustler'? A 'hooker'? Or a 'male prostitute'?” He kept shifting his eyes back and forth, from Michael to his coffee.

“Sorry, but yes.” Michael had respect enough to blush and feel shame. “Something like that.”

“That was true when I first started out in college. To pay the exuberant tuition costs. I needed as many clients as I could get. I did hustle plenty of them, for years.” Sean hooked a foot into the chair caddy-corner to him and dragged it over to lay his left arm across the top rung as he leaned over it to rest along. “I could spin a sob story and work my charms. It started to be less and less about the sex, more about companionship and—not being alone, feeling lonely on a Friday or a Saturday night.”

Michael still couldn't fathom the wild and fascinating story Sean had spun for him during their one night together. “Do you _really_ consider Brian having turned your life around all those years ago?” It wasn't that Michael doubted Sean, because he had his own beliefs how Brian had affected his life for the long-haul.

Sean let an easy smile slip over his mouth as he scratched at his growing stubble. “I get the idea he would hate knowing this, but even in his early days of promiscuity... he had an integrity and confidence about him that just—” He motioned over to Michael for him to be aware of knowing Brian the best out of everyone. “—well, you knew him privately, better than anyone. Brian exuded charm and a suaveness for someone so young. He looked like he had lived two lifetimes—the way he whipped those men he was with into shape. He made sure the whole of our group—the twinks they had rounded up at the club—were treated with respect and a certain kind of gentleness.”

Michael shook his head in awe. “Funny how one never hears that Brian Kinney could ever be kind or gentle.” He frowned at the thoughts scrambling through his mind. “It's always how good of a lay he is.”

“Some men use sex, or getting sex, for their own purposes. As a weapon. As revenge. As a means to an end. Some are even using sex as punishment—to themselves, mostly.”

“You think that's what Brian's doing?”

“I _know_ it's what he's doing.” Sean leaned his head on the hand of his left arm on the chair as he looked at Michael. “Think about it—over all these years, have you ever known Brian to have sex for simple pleasure?” He furrowed his brow as he wondered if Michael knew the truth about Brian's sexual exploits. “Or because he enjoys the company he's with?”

Michael shook his head adamantly, letting out a stunted chuckle. “He's too clouded by drugs or alcohol—or both.” He crossed his arms on the table, then leaned forward. “He's even let a single emotion carry him into the bedroom, or wherever he chooses to fuck.”

“It may look like he's hurting you, but he's actually hurting himself more.”

Michael let his gaze drift off to look at a spot on the wall, not even paying attention to the other customers in the coffeehouse. “The more sex he has, the further he thinks I'll be disgusted with him and push him away finally.”

“Well, you might distance yourself, but you really don't go far, do you?” Sean softened his tone as he realized, more and more, that Michael understood way-too much about Brian Kinney to simply be “just a best friend”. He had seen plenty of examples of relationships like Brian and Michael: some worked out for the best and lasted whole lifetimes, but some actually fell apart and were irrevocably destroyed. “And you feel him reeling with apologies when you two meet up again.”

“ _Forgiveness_ more than apologies.” Michael raised his eyes at the word “forgiveness”, then gave a small pout to Sean. He knew how pathetic he could be when it came to Brian.

“He's trying hard to stay the bad boy you fell in love with.”

“I may have loved his rebellious side, but I find I love who he's become deeper inside the most.” Michael had taken one of the table's paper napkins and twisted it between his two hands in a nervous manner. “The _real_ Brian.”

Sean stared at Michael, then slowly nodded his head. “You've never told him. Never let him in.”

“No. Never.” Michael shook his head. “Until the other day.”

Sean smiled broadly as he sat upright to reach out and lay his hand on Michael's forearm. “Nice. You took a chance. You should be proud.” He squeezed his fingers around the shape, then soothed his hand up and down the sleeve. “You cracked the door open a little for him. He just needs time.” Sean pat the area he touched, then drew back to fold his own arms on the table, shoving his coffee around again. “Not saying he'll crawl back, but he'll be there when you least expect him.”

Michael looked down, then away to the floor as his mind jumbled around in swirls with plans and thoughts. “I might need to use you—one last time.”

“Whatever you need.” Sean lifted his gaze back to Michael's face, then lifted his mug to his lips. “I'm yours.” He took a huge gulp of the tepid liquid and then couldn't help letting out a mischievous grin at the “wheels” he could detect spinning in Michael's head.

Michael kept his arms crossed, sitting back to throw one leg over the other knee. “It's my turn to get him to the cliff's edge an' teeter him off.”

Sean shifted around his seat a bit to pull out his wallet and take out a few bills for a decent tip. “C'mon, we should get on the road or it'll be too dark when we get back to Pittsburgh.” He signaled a barista to come their way so they could get their coffee and tea To-Go.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Eric was folding the last bit of laundry he had pulled out of the dryer. It would've gone quicker had it simply been him in the house, but with the twins sharing occupancy, and keeping another set of clothes at the house, it made for a lazy task eating up a few hours once he got off work earlier than scheduled. Michael had called, inviting him out for a night of dinner and club-hopping. He backed out of the invite, but did keep Michael on the phone to talk for a couple of minutes.

Since Sean had canceled their Tuesday therapy session, Eric was hoping Michael would drop hints of what he might know. Like if Sean would cancel their Thursday appointment—which was tomorrow—as well. By the time the call ended, Eric realized there hadn't been a single mention of Sean in their conversation. He checked his cell phone one last time, then went around to find the cordless extension to see if any messages had been left on his home phone. Nothing. Nowhere. From nobody.

He had one last basket on the couch next to him; he decided to curl up with some hot tea and peruse the rest of the morning paper he had attempted to rush through before he had left for work. Eric had sworn he'd be fine once the kids left Monday morning, but on both Tuesday and today, he'd slept past his alarm buzzer. He wasn't sure why he seemed to have lost this extra verve or gained a feeling of lazing about, of _not_ wanting to get out of bed to face the day. It was unlike him, but he knew it could be easily explained if he actually thought about the situation.

For now, Eric was content with brushing the issue aside. If it continued the rest of the week, then he had some cause for deep concern. He pulled out the third, and final, section of the paper, the one dedicated to entertainment and local PA life. Where he would typically skim over this section, for some reason, he felt like checking out each article. Or at least he would read the headline, look to see if there was a corresponding picture to interest him, then he would speed read through a few paragraphs. On the second page, almost center of the elongated paper, was a very familiar face in black and white.

Eric felt a tiny smirk jolt his lips to open. “— _hey, tha's Franco_...” He had recognized the man Sean had introduced him to last Thursday. The sweet soul who had revealed everything about Sean that nobody else knew—some things Sean hadn't been aware Franco had paid attention to. As his eyes moved to the byline, the first few sentences didn't bode well for the eventual outcome. Eric lifted his gaze to read the article's header...

**Local Socialite Succumbs To Illness**

Eric sat upright, planting bare feet on the hardwood floor. He stretched out the two pages of newspaper on the low coffee table, his eyes immediately focused on the long article with his hand over his mouth in shock. It was a fairly decent write-up of Franco's full life, barely touching ground on his actual death with no mention of when a funeral would be held. “Shit!” Eric didn't know when France had passed, but it had to have been over the weekend. He covered both hands over his face, stunned into absolute quiet as he scrambled around to locate his cell phone and scroll through his contact list to find Sean's number and, hopefully, dial it with some success.

No wonder Sean had canceled. Now Eric let go of that worry to only pick up a _new_ concern. Having seen Franco alive last week gave Eric the jitters to now know the man who had beaten his medical condition once before, had finally passed on. Sean had to be near agony. Eric wished he had stopped playing this damn “footsie” game and flat out asked Michael about Sean. He didn't know why, but he was sure Michael had known something—even one inkling of information.

Eric folded the newspaper in half, facing out the page with Franco's picture. Then he folded it again so he could only see the article and Franco's youthful, smiling image. He read the words underneath—in the caption—noticing that one of the men with Franco in the photograph was Dustin Evans, Franco's long-time companion who had died of complications from HIV two years prior. When most people found out Franco was sick, they immediately assumed he was dying of the same disease. Not so.

Franco had told Eric he'd been diagnosed with a rare form of melanoma—all those glorious days spent in the sunlight to keep so healthy-looking and tanned. He had beat the illness at the on-set, going into full remission for almost five years and then three years ago it was back, but more aggressive and attacking inner organs. Franco had attempted to not let it come between he and Dustin's relationship, but when his lover had collapsed—unable to regain his complete health—Franco decided he would have to handle the situation differently.

This was where Sean had come into the picture having been an escort to Dustin before Franco had come into his life. And what had ultimately shown Eric the _real_ Sean Hudson Lyle—the main reason why Eric couldn't shake his growing feelings. It hadn't even bothered him to know Sean's true profession, or why he had really shown up in Pittsburgh.

Eric was on his way to the kitchen, wanting something stronger than hot tea, preferably a drink that was both scikeningly sweet and very alcoholic. The doorbell rang and Eric spun on his bare foot to head to the door. He glanced through the peephole first and couldn't believe what he was seeing. “— _jesus christ_...” He backed away from the paneling to look down at himself, hands running down his flanks to smooth over his worn clothing.

Eric knew he must appear atrocious, unkempt and in the oldest, rattiest clothes he owned. Doing laundry gave him carte-blanche to look like a lazy-ass bum. Eric leaned on the door with both palms flat, then he reached over to turn on the porch light. He unlocked the dead bolt and took off the extra security chain. As he went to push the screen door out and open, Sean plastered himself in the doorway, shaking his head; he kept one hand on the screen door to hold it in place.

“uh, no.” Sean gave off a small smile with a soft laugh. “I didn't come here to be invited in.” He walked away from the screen, having to grab onto his suit jacket lapels. “I'm here because—I'm _here_ —” He hadn't realized how difficult this would be to say.

Eric tried to contain his own emotions, but the sight of a broken, and breaking, Sean caused his eyes to fill with moisture. “Sean, I—” He touched the edge of the screen as if to reach for Sean.

“I'm here because I **_had_** to see you.” Sean threw his hands in mid-air to show defeat. “There it is. **_I had_**. ** _To see you_**.” He took two fingers to shoot from his own eyes toward Eric's face. He shook his head at this weakness he wasn't used to in himself. “I wanted to call—” Sean's words fell into the awkward empty pauses of their dialog.

“I wish you _had_.” Eric blurted out, now that he knew the truth about Sean's disappearance.

Sean disagreed with a sharp twist of his head. “I've already given you too much to deal with.” He started counting off all the other things that were important in Eric's world. “Your kids for the weekend. Work. _Every_ thing I dumped on you Thursday. Last thing you needed was me begging you to come to a funeral of the man you'd just met days prior.”

Eric hurriedly wiped under each eye. “When was the service?” His fingers actually clawed a bit at the mesh screen.

“Noon-ish. “ Sean looked down and away, hoping Eric wouldn't feel jealous or pissed off with his next admission. “I asked Michael to go with me.”

“You did?” Somehow knowing that fact made Eric tear up even more, simply because he knew what a good friend Michael was to have been there for Sean in such a time of need.

“Yeah...” Sean averted his head, shaking the shape then tilting it back to crane his neck. “He's not you, though.”

“No. No, he's not.” Eric swallowed hard, laughing nervously as he nodded in acceptance. “But I'm glad you asked him and he was able to be with you.”

“I was too. I still cried a lot.” Sean let out a soft snicker, a tad ashamed. “Well, we _both_ did. I think it actually did Michael some good to come with me. Helped him to close doors on his uncle's death.”

“—yeah... funerals have a tendency to be quite cathartic, in some ways.”

“Did you know?” Sean raised a single eyebrow in inquiry.

Eric made a small gesture behind him to the newspaper still on the coffee table. “uh, I just read the article in today's paper.”

“ _He_ did that—Franco.” Sean couldn't help softly laughing at Franco's boastful pride, knowing that no one did better ego-stroking than Franco—even in the afterlife. “He even helped write his own obit.”

Eric let out a sad smile, with a light chuckle along with Sean. “I'm sorry I didn't know him better.”

“I'm more sorry I waited so damn long to see him again.” Sean intently gazed over at Eric, his eyes steady as if he dared Eric to make his own negative statement.

“No one blames you, Sean. Especially Franco.”

Sean nodded, bowing chin to chest, then he shot his head back upright. “Did he tell you that?”

Eric felt the single teardrop fall at the cracking of Sean's voice. “—yea-yeah-yes... he did.”

Sean spun halfway around, like he was about to bolt off the porch. He really had nothing more to say. He truthfully had only wanted to gaze at Eric's face, and be in his calming presence, before he went back home and crashed into bed.

Eric thought he would have to chase after Sean again. “Sean!” He opened the screen door, taking a step down to the flooring and snagged Sean's jacket sleeve.

Sean gazed down at the hand, the fingers crawling down to his shirt cuff, to his bare wrist and then how they fit around his own hand. He sniffled lightly, returning the subtle squeeze to reassure. “It's getting chillier out here. You should go back inside.”

“Not without you— _please_...” It wasn't a question. Eric didn't want Sean to leave.

Sean should refuse because if he was left alone with Eric, in the privacy of this warm, cozy home, he might not ever want to leave. He had needed the company of someone familiar, someone who knew him—someone other than Michael. Sean deduced he desperately needed Eric—plain and simple.

Eric felt Sean loosen his body's stiffness, allowing himself to be pulled into the open space of his quaint home. He shut the front door, turned off the porch light and set the locks again.

Sean slid out of his suit jacket as he glanced around the huge spacious rooms, the open floor plan and the high vaulted ceilings. “I like this. It's so you—it's... _Eric_.” He felt his heart pick up pace a bit, his skin crawling and over-heating to flush red under his tan.

Eric crossed his arms at his back, curious to why Sean was feeling a sudden need to start wandering around the house, while slowly shedding out of his clothing. After the jacket came the shoes, and Sean looked over Eric's photographs on the wall, the ones on the shelves and counters as well. Next he undid his shirt cuffs, then worked on two top buttons to finally pull the whole button-down shirt off over his head. Standing between the kitchen and dining room, in his tank-t, trousers and socked feet, Sean moved to look out at the backyard as he loosened his leather belt.

Eric opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, what Sean was doing, but he really didn't think Sean knew exactly why either. How did one define a reaction to grief, to loss? Eric simply trailed behind, picking up each article of clothing to stack somewhere safe. Sean was undoing his trousers as he walked along the wall of windows, watching the patio deck and stopped when he saw the plunging pool off the back of the house. Material fell to his feet and as he stepped out of the legs he yanked off his socks. He chuckled as he wiggled his toes and felt the warmth beneath his flat, bare soles.

“—heated flooring.” Eric spoke out as he smiled along with Sean's laughter.

“I like.” Sean then grabbed the bottom hem of the tank-t, hesitating only slightly as he tugged the cotton off his body and threw it behind him. “I keep thinking about the things you said to me last week. The one comment that sticks in my head was you claiming I had purposefully 'trapped' you there—almost forcing you to come to terms with who I was.” He felt safer—saner—in talking with his back to Eric. “My life, my career... my choices in life...”

“Sean, those were in the heat of the moment.” Eric paced as close to Sean as he thought he'd be allowed, then leaned on the back of a dining room chair. “I did feel that you went to an odd extreme to tell me who the real you was, but—in hindsight, it was the best way I could've taken it all in.” With his left arm stretched out and latched onto the polished wood of the chair, he let his right arm dangle but then placed the flat of his palm to his chest to feel his deep breathes and hurried heart rate. “Had you told me here, on your own, taking me out on a date to 'butter me up'...” It had taken him only a day or two—stuck in his own repetitive, jarring old life to come to a realization that what Sean had done made sense. At the time, it had felt cruel and unusual, but then again Sean's life didn't afford him any sign of regularity or normalcy. “I doubt I would've been open, or feel the way I do now.”

“Which is?” Sean didn't turn from facing the back yard. He glanced over his shoulder and down to the floor.

Eric swiped up the belt, socks, trousers and set them down, momentarily, as he stepped to Sean, his fingers reaching out touch naked skin. “My heart breaks for you an' all I wanna do is—hold you tight an' kiss it all better.” He pulled his hand back, shook his head and wandered off to add the new discarded clothes to the growing pile. While Eric had his back turned, Sean got rid of his last piece of clothing, standing naked and vulnerable in the middle of the wide open floor-space. His hands covered his groin as Eric swiveled to find him completely nude, with nothing left to strip. The sight of Sean's total lack of clothing was both gut-wrenching and erotic all at once. “Sean, wha—?”

Sean finally twisted back around, face to face with Eric, who didn't dare look down around where his hands covered. “I wanted to know what it felt like for you.” He felt each of the muscles and tendons of his arms pull and strain as he stood in full view of Eric's gaze. It was weird to find that Eric never let his eyes waver once from his own eyes. “Wasn't it like you were stripped naked and exposed in front of all those people? I introduced you to a terminally ill stranger and I prayed he could tell you my own story so that I wouldn't sound utterly biased and egotistical.” Sean snorted out a snicker as he shook his head at his inability to know how to take a step forward in his relationship with Eric. “I was scared I'd chase you away, but I was intent on you knowing the whole truth about me, about what had happened from a completely different viewpoint.” He lifted one side of his mouth in a small grin. “Lucky for me that I could still trust that Franco wouldn't hate me forever.”

“—he said it was impossibly not to hate you.” Eric swallowed the lump lodged in his throat as he watched Sean shut his eyes and almost shudder in his bare flesh. He knew it wasn't form cold air but deep, heart felt emotion. “Not after you had dropped everything in your life to take over Dustin's care once Franco had left for good.”

“I didn't want him to leave.” Sean reopened his eyes to show they were pooling with tears. “I thought it was foolish of him to do that to someone he had professed to love.” He cleared his throat and used the rounded shape of his shoulder to wipe at his face if the tears happened to fall, which they did. “But Dustin and I knew that if Franco was sicker than he had been before... it wouldn't have been fair to either of them.”

Eric stepped to the head chair on the end of the dining table, he leaned back on the chair's rungs, his fingers clamping on them as he prevented himself from running toward Sean and holding him, loaning him some warmth and comfort. “I don't know why you keep thinking anyone wouldn't like you after knowing the full story. It's heart-breaking—yeah, but it's a beautiful, selfless thing you did for them, Sean.”

Sean lifted his watery gaze to meet Eric's eyes. “Someone once asked me if I would change my answer to Franco's question three years ago—I told them 'no'. I would do it all over again, because I was able to learn that I wasn't such a disgusting human being.”

“ _Who_ told you that?” Eric tone sounded like he'd love to kick the ass of the person who told Sean such a lie.

“My father.” Sean looked away, down to the tips of his toes. “My honesty with him cost me his love... his acceptance. Not only was I gay, but I was dirty and a pervert. He even called me a psychopath for thinking I could choose a career path that didn't match his own.”

“You got yourself through college, graduating with top honors. What more did he want?”

“Didn't matter.” Sean shrugged each shoulder one at a time. “It was like I had slept my way to the top.”

Eric couldn't stand watching Sean talk bad about himself. He walked as close as he could, before Sean moved again. “If you won't put your suit back on, I can loan you some clothes.”

Sean's lifted his head, eyes steady on Eric's face, then the frown lines marring the brow. “If you don't mind—” He gestured toward the back yard pool that seemed to be calling out to him to dive into. “I won't stay out there long. I just need a spot of fresh air before I choke.”

Eric nodded his head, turned as Sean swiveled and bolted out the door and did a perfectly smooth-running dive into the cold-ass water. Eric rushed into the master bedroom to head into the bathroom to grab his own robe for Sean to fit into once he came out; he snatched up a towel from the shelving unit. It wasn't but another five or six minutes before Sean dashed back inside, huddled and shivering near the back door. Eric handed him the large towel to dry off with, but kept the robe split open wide to hide Sean away from his curious eyes. He could hear Sean's teeth chattering together.

“Point me in the direction of a shower... please...”

Eric draped the robe over Sean's shoulders, then placed a gentle hand flat to the lower back to steer Sean toward the bathroom off the children's bedroom. Inviting Sean into his home was one thing, but inviting him into his bedroom was another. Eric flipped the light switch and was about to tell Sean he'd find him more towels and a change of clothes. Except Sean manged to slip on by him, softly shutting the door. The paneling didn't close all the way, leaving a slit open between the door and the molding. He still went about finding Sean a set of dry clothes to change into. He remembered that he had those prototypes of new clothing designs sitting in boxes on the second floor loft, where the guest bedroom was. Eric had known Sean's sizes early on, so he was able to find clothing that would fit him perfectly. Or so Eric hoped.

He politely knocked, because that was the right thing to do. Eric meant to slide his arm through to place everything on the sink counter. The water was on full-blown heat, creating a blanket of steam in the small room that fogged the mirror. Eric still detected the long, lean muscular torso of a naked man, and the form remained still—unmoving. He pushed open the door, merely out of concern and stepped in to find Sean intentionally dunking his body under the showerhead as his right arm was raised palm flat to tile as he braced himself for the impact of high-pressured water.

By this time, Eric figured out what Sean had been doing all along. It was almost poetic, quite lyrical and comforting. As he had undressed in front of Eric, not only was Sean literally laying himself bare but he was shedding off the past. There was no one left of that old life Sean had lived for three years—well, anyone directly involved who knew every detail. Sean had felt imprisoned by this one image, and he had finally found a reason to break free of its confines and seek out something more, with somebody he respected and cared for. Someone he could eventually have feelings for or maybe he had them already. Without realizing, Sean taking Eric to meet Franco was Sean letting Eric inside of his life—fully. To not only trust him with a jaded past and shaky present, but also with a questionable future.

Eric poked his head around the glass wall. “Turn the shower off, Sean. Get out here and dry off.”

Sean startled in his slouched position, never having heard Eric wander in. He shut off the valves, swiping his hands over his face and the top of his shaved head. He peeked around the wall and watched Eric walk to him with the extra-large towel he'd given him earlier. Sean huddled and stepped over the shower threshold, letting Eric sweep the Egyptian cotton around him, from the back, covering his shoulders like a cape. Eric wrapped the material about Sean, soothing his hands up and down the thick biceps he could feel beneath.

Sean curled under the towel to the point where his head hit Eric's shoulder and ear. Eric took the action a step further, bringing his right hand up to lock around nape and neck, turning his head to kiss the side of Sean's face. He sent his left arm over broad shoulders and across the hunched back, embracing Sean as close to his own body as he was allowed. When Eric drew backward, Sean leaned his head against Eric's hair, feeling the soft strands brush over his skin.

“I'm glad you're here.” Eric knew Sean needed a best friend more than someone desiring his body and wanting to be fucked by him. “I was wondering if you'd be canceling tomorrow on me too.”

Sean lifted his head, wrinkling his brow in bewilderment. “You _still_ wanna be my physical therapist?”

“Why not?” Eric drew backward, grabbing the folds of the towel mid-sternum on Sean's body to hold them like coat lapels he could gently shake. “We shouldn't need more than two weeks of those sessions.” He was loving the vulnerability and overt shyness Sean was showing him— _only_ for him. “It's stupid to hand you over to a new trainer who wouldn't do half as good a job as I've been doing for you.”

For the first time, Sean let out a loud belly laugh. He dried off his back, sliding the towel to fit around his waist. “I couldn't agree more.”

Eric opened the door to let the steam out, then swiveled to lean on the sink counter ledge. “Now don't hate me for doing this to you, but if you won't wear your suit again, or any of my own clothes...” He picked up the pile of clothes he had stacked near the sink. “—be my sexy model for these new designs. I've got everything you could need—shirt, hoodie, sweatpants and briefs. Wear them all or only wear a few pieces, but—please—” Eric put his palms together, closing his eyes and praying to anyone above to hear him—well, for Sean to listen closely. “—don't walk around naked again unless I'm directly involved in why you're naked in the first place.” He wandered out after that, hearing Sean snicker; Eric made his way into the kitchen. He didn't know why but he was starting to crave breakfast. He heard the soft patter of bare feet on the hardwood flooring, so he turned to ask Sean a question. “Could you eat?”

Sean was only wearing the suede drawstring booty shorts and the matching hoodie, lapels were open and the hood was up on the head. Eric felt his heart melt almost instantly, then lurch and pick up pace but he had to know that Hudson would choose whatever options of clothing were offered to feel comfortable. Sean was a man who was confident in his body—that fact had been made clear only a few minutes ago.

“I could.”

“Omelet sound good?” Eric went to the fridge to take out eggs.

Sean loved how welcoming Eric's whole house was making him feel. “It does sound delicious but pancakes or French toast sounds even better.” He stepped into the kitchen with ease, standing in the middle of the floor, waiting to be told what to do. Sean worked the teeth of the zipper to the hoodie to close and then shucked the hood off his head.

Eric nodded his head once in agreement. “French toast it is then.”

Sean came around the middle island. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Eric gestured with his head, feeling a slight shiver move over his skin. “Bread's in the box over there and maybe you could start the coffee. Everything you need will be in the cabinet above the coffee pot.”

Sean eyed Eric's deftness at preparing to cook on the distant stovetop. “You cook a lot?” He was taking out the bread, walking it over to where Eric was building up his cook-station. He then wandered back to the coffee pot, taking out the glass pitcher to head toward the sink.

“For myself. The kids too.”

“Did you cook for your Ex?” Sean frowned when Eric shook his head. He filled the coffee pot reservoir, then opened the cabinet above his head to look at the selection of coffee beans. “Was he picky about what he ate?” Lucky for him, there was only two to chose from and they both had their own scoop inside their containers.

“He had a chef in the house.” Eric knew admitting something like that would alert Sean to know he came from a relationship where money had been no object. He hated the idea that because he had been seven years younger than his ex-boyfriend most thought of him as a “kept” man—the old boy-toy. Eric shuffled around to gather the pans he'd need to use.

Sean killed that topic and moved on. “What about after?”

Eric snorted out a loud laugh, which caused Sean to join in with him. “Most gay men don't go for home-cooked meals when all they want is to fuck you.”

“Did you try to date?” Sean couldn't help but swallow hard at Eric's blatant honesty. He almost regretted that Eric had felt so bereft and alone, but then he felt a little jealous that anyone had been with Eric after his break-up.

“I did. They always went bad. I was still a mess.”

Sean pulled out the coffee pot to settle in the outer ridge of the counter, then went back to look into the cabinet and then the one next to it, for mugs or coffee tumblers. “After Dustin passed on, I tried to do escorting again. It wasn't the same.”

Eric turned the front burner on to low heat. “Were the men bad or just the sex itself?”

“Maybe I should've said... **_I_** wasn't the same.” Sean was creeping up behind Eric. “Coffee mugs?”

“Here.” Eric simply showed Sean where they were instead of rudely pointing, but it caused him to bump into Sean's side. “You still took other measures to satisfy yourself, I hope.” He smiled nervously as he had to stand on tip-toe to reach into the cabinet and pull down the cleaner mugs. Eric immediately knew when Sean was directly behind him, because he felt a strong hand shape his hip to hold him steady. Then he planted his feet flat again, and the hand slid across his lower back to gently tug at the worn t-shirt material.

“I did, but rather poorly.” Sean flipped the cups over, then slid them down the counter to the coffee pot. “If I can admit that to myself, out loud.” He wandered over to the fridge and looked inside for liquid creamers or milk. He yanked out the milk, then went back over to the cabinet to take down a bin of sugar packets.

“Why do you say _that_?” Eric doubted Sean could ever have bad sex, intentionally or accidentally. He gathered a few bowls to use to make his slices of French toast. He had to walk over to Sean to borrow some milk for the egg mixture; he had a measuring cup in his hands.

“Escorting was different.” Sean leaned back on the counter, liking the sight of Eric fluttering about the kitchen. “I played a role, sometimes I knew the guys, and it was a safe, controlled environment.” He noticed the second pan Eric had brought out, which was probably going to be used for bacon or sausages. Sean decided to go searching for them in the fridge.

Eric was stunned beyond words how Sean followed behind him without needing to be told what to do. It was as if he was “tuned in” to whatever frequency Eric worked at. “ahhh, difficult to transfer that to one night stands.”

“Hey, if you're lucky you find one guy who doesn't mind you asking what he likes.” Sean had to bend over and dip inside the fridge to move other food and containers on the shelves and peek into drawers to find what he needed. “Or taking the time to make the moment less rushed. I was even told to shut up once and _just fuck_... and I'm not usually _that_ chatty in bed.”

Eric chuckled outright as he added splashes of cinnamon spice to the egg mixture. “Sounds like someone who simply had a single need.” He could tell from the corner of his eye that Sean had a nice ass, and those booty shorts weren't given that name just to be clever.

Sean finally stood, finding the envelope of bacon, and a box of sausage patties. He was greedy; he wanted both. “For all he knew, I could've been his favorite dildo.”

Eric cracked up laughing, slapping a hand over his face. “Oh, God. Tha's terrible.” He also knew it to be true, because he had a few men who treated him like he didn't matter in bed.

“yeah, well, most men are callous ingrates with cold, inky-black hearts.”

“awww...” Eric pouted for Sean but found himself laughing again. Sean was near enough that when he reached out a hand, the fingers slid down the hoodie and over the rounded ass cheek. “mmm... I'm pretty certain when they drew these clothes, it was for the whole ensemble.”

“Hey, you can't deny I pull this kind of an outfit off.” As he set down the food in his arms, Sean made sure to turn around, shaking his ass and hips for show.

“Jesus...” Eric meant to tease, but there was way-too much truth in his words and what he was feeling inside. “—my design team would eat you up an' have a field day with you.”

Sean frowned in confusion. “Why do you say _that_?”

Eric swallowed hard, not wanting to hurt Sean's feelings or treat him like he was just a piece of male meat to be ogled. “You have one of those perfect masculine forms clothing designers die to work with.”

“Look in the mirror, Eric.” Sean felt his throat catch at Eric's words, then the genuine low self-esteem that seemed to pour forth. “You're not exactly Quasimodo.” It was a shame Eric hid himself away in such dour and shabby clothes, even when he dressed nicely for work.

“Me?” Eric placed a hand flat to his chest and barked out in a high-pitched voice. “Puh-leeze!” He swiped at the air for Sean to not make another mention of how good-looking he was. “I already told you I refuse to use my face to market my gym or my products. That goes for exposing my body as well.”

“Would you do it—any of it—if I was there with you?” Sean couldn't help the thoughts running in his head. Not just because of how strikingly gorgeous Eric was, but because he honestly had a _bona fide_ good idea pop into his head.

“huh?” Eric kept his eyes downcast as he let the first piece of bread soak in the egg batter.

“Is it really a 'don't exploit me'-thing or do you have some issue with the way your body looks?”

“Sean...” Eric averted his head, then moved away to reach for a spatula.

“It's all right if you do. I'm not here to judge. I just want you to know—from my viewpoint—if you were modeling these clothes for me, I'd probably buy all of the items in your size just to see you look this good, dressed like this around the house.”

“I don't like being naked for profit.” Eric dropped the slice of bread into the pan, letting it sizzle. “Sorry.”

“Hey, it's okay.” Sean shrugged his shoulders, then folded his arms as he turned around to lean back on the counter ledge. “I've heard worse. I understand.” He looked at Eric to his left, his brow wrinkling in curiosity. “Have you tried wearing anything in your clothing line?”

“Once, back when I was just starting out.” Eric dropped a second slice under the first, the flipped the first piece. “It was only me and one designer.”

“But not now? Not since?”

“Occasionally I will. It's more for private use when I workout on my own. Or, like, I'll put on the briefs under my work clothes.” Eric softened his voice at the end comment, hating to admit how good some of the textures felt against his bare skin.

“Okay, after we eat...” Sean stretched out his left arm, his hand clamping around the counter edge and his whole body leaned to the left. “—things are gonna change around here.” He slapped his hand down as if making a declaration.

“oh, really?” Eric lifted a single eyebrow in wild wonderment.

“Yes, really.” Sean pushed off the counter, pacing up to Eric's back and dipping low to speak into an ear. His breath brushed down the open collar, causing Eric to openly shiver and close his eyes. “What do you like in your coffee, stud?”

**~~ &&~~&&~~...tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


	12. Chapter 12

**  
**

Sean plopped backward onto the mattress, Eric climbing in on the other side. Lying on his back, a little less exuberantly; they were in the upstairs guest bedroom, cooling down from their hours of hard work—an impromptu fashion shoot around Eric's house. A digital camera was held above their heads as Sean scrolled through the multitude of shots he'd taken of he and Eric, of Eric alone and then of himself, alone. He chose to remain on the pictures of Eric for a long time, showing why the shot and Eric's body in the particular clothes they had picked looked so good. Then Sean would slip in a photo of them together and Eric would shuffle closer, stare and then hide his face behind Sean's shoulder blade. Soon Eric was so embarrassed he flipped the pillow they had been laying on over his face; Sean thought it was adorable how shy Eric was about his gorgeous, and extremely fit, body.

Sean put down the camera, still gripping the shape in his left hand as he rolled toward Eric in the King-sized bed. “C'mon, man...stop hiding yourself.” He was trying to pull at the pillow's plushness. “You're sexy in your own right. I have plenty of photographic proof.”

Sean pestered enough to have Eric lifting the pillow slightly so he could turn his head and talk underneath. “But I know you purposely cut out my head in all those shots. I'll deny it was even me.”

Sean settled on his right side, facing Eric's shadowed face as he tucked his right hand under his cheek. “Not even if I take what we have—as your temporary manager and agent—and show Pittsburgh's top advertising executive a great idea for a new ad campaign before you're snatched up by some huge corporation?”

“But I'm not—”

Letting go of the camera, placed on the mattress between their bodies, Sean reached out to place a finger over Eric's lips, quieting him. “What Kinney doesn't know won't hurt him.” He started to crawl under the pillow-shield more, causing Eric to shove over. “You don't wanna be selling out of gyms for the rest of your life, do you?”

“No, but—” _Again! With the finger!_ Eric let a big sigh escape out of his nostrils.

“Then trust me...” The finger turned into a hand on Eric's cheek. “You've taken such great care of me this past month, now it's my turn to take care of you.” Sean dipped his head to press lips to Eric's left shoulder joint, then rested his cheek on the heated bare skin. “I've got a college degree I haven't put to good use.” He hooked his hand around Eric's throat, soothing the flesh. “I wanna do this for you. I know how much you hate me saying 'I owe you'. We can call this _even_ if I can help you put your clothing line, and whatever else you have planned to trail behind it, out there for the general public.”

Eric shut his eyes and sighed again because Sean was touching him, holding him close and laying against his skin. But he couldn't vocalize that, not yet. “These clothes really _do_ feel good—against the skin.” And Sean's clothes felt good against him as well. Eric stretched out his hand to smooth down the outline of Sean's body, stopping at the drawstrings of the suede briefs. “—not to mention how it feels when another person is wearing them against you.” He never even knew how provocative and pleasurable that could be, until Sean lay next to him— _like this_.

Sean kissed along the slope of shoulder, up the long stretch of throat and started nipping at Eric's ear lobe. He snuck the camera under the pillow and snapped a random shot of them—as he had been doing for the past few hours. Eric playfully pushed at Sean to get away from him, while turning his head in the opposite direction from the viewfinder. Sean tugged the pillow back under his head, lifting to lay down on the plushness as Eric was immediately exposed. Then he yanked Eric over, flipping to his left side to lay his head on the other half that wasn't being used.

Eric kept his eyes lowered, unable to look at Sean directly being this close to his intense gaze. “You are insane.” But he secretly loved how focused and excitable Sean could be when he had creative business ideas flowing in his head. “It'll never work. Brian Kinney would rather watch me fail, withering away in a fiery burst and disappear.”

Sean grabbed the tip of Eric's chin to lift his face. He reached out to cup the side of a cheek, then ran the backs of his fingers along the flushed skin. “Give me tomorrow to work on something as a mock-up campaign, with what we have already. I can promise you I'll have Kinney salivating in your hands, begging you to be one of his new clients.”

“You'll let me help you, won't you?” Eric liked living vicariously through Sean's brilliance; he didn't want to miss out on anything else that might be produced in his honor.

“If you want to, but it's not important for you to participate. The ads are pretty much written in every image of the clothes we were wearing. If you give me enough creative allowance, I could knock your socks off too.”

“eh, I'm used to your extravagant tendencies by now. I'd rather be on your side than be totally oblivious to the ways your mind works.” Eric's hand soothed around Sean's wrist, sliding up the forearm as he rolled them. Now off the pillowcase, hovering over Sean's face looking up at him, Eric hesitated with letting the thumb of his left hand trail along rough stubble and soft skin, his right arm circled about Sean's head on the pillow, fingers petting the shaved surface. He was ready to get serious now, playtime and fun was nearly over.

Sean had to admit having Eric caress him, and surround him in this manner—with the day— _the week_ —he'd had—was what he'd been waiting for. “I'm glad I stopped here to see you an' didn't drive back to my place once I dropped Michael off.”

Eric bent to lean his brow on Sean's. “I find I don't like watching you be that emotional and vulnerable, that shattered to your core. I prefer you like _this_.” He under-cupped Sean's chin and jaw, keeping the head in one position as he slowly pressed down on lips that had been waiting for his touch since they'd last kissed. Eric drew his left leg up and sent it along Sean's body, then slid the limb down between splayed thighs to tangle their legs. He sent a hand down Sean's bare torso, rubbing over the protruding bulge beneath the suede briefs. “God...you feel incredible in my hands.” Eric knew he would, but the reality was far superior than fantasy.

Sean exhaled a soft, nervous puff of a laugh. “If I come in these briefs, are they mine?” He wiggled his eyebrows up-and-down.

“You bet. _You come in them, you pay for them_.”

“mmm, what a jaw-dropping tag line for a TV ad. Maybe we should stop then.” While Sean did love the feel of Eric's weight on him, the warmth of the body between his thighs, they had to stop this moment from progressing further.

“Thankfully, you know the owner of the company. He might be able to cut you a deal.” Eric chuckled with Sean's deep, guttural laugh, noticing some peculiar facial ticks in features under him. “You okay?” It looked like Sean wanted to say something, something that might put a damper on this moment building.

“I'm fine. It's just—” Sean turned his head, drawing up one arm to swipe the hand over his face as he averted his eyes.

“Are you worried it won't be good between us?” Eric was relieved when Sean shook his head, but only partly when the gaze shifted away that once held steady. “What else is holding you back?”

Sean reached out with the arm he'd drawn up to cup Eric's shoulder, then soothed over and around the left biceps and shoulder joint. “My entire reason for being in The Pitts isn't over yet.” Then he suddenly stopped moving his hands because he liked the feel of Eric's soft flesh on his skin. He tilted his head to rest on his hand, looking up at Eric from his resting place on the pillow. “I've got one last 'plan' up my sleeve, with Michael, to help him, then I know I'll be...uh, done.” Sean's darkening eyes dropped to Eric's mouth, particularly the bottom lip.

Eric was beginning to smirk, drawing up one side of his mouth. “You think if we have sex an' you have something intimate with Michael...that I'll be jealous?” He lifted an eyebrow in curiosity.

“It's okay if you _do_ , or if you _don't_. I'd like to know you care, _so jealousy is_ ** _very_** _good_.” Sean let his fingers play over his mouth, trying to disguise a hidden smile. “But it's more for _my_ benefit.” He cleared his throat, lifting his chin then extending his hand to caress over Eric's face, down one cheek and around an ear, along the column of neck to rest on the dip of the shoulder; he curled his hand and wrist around the bone structure. Going on to explain himself, “If I'm with someone, I'm there _for good_. If I'm _here_ , I won't be helping Michael...and he'll have to work on Brian on his own, the rest of the way.” Sean heaved a huge sigh, opening his mouth to say more.

Eric already knew what would be said, so he shook his head. “—an' you've gotten him this far, you'd like to see him toward an ending.” He settled his right forearm along the side of Sean's head on the pillowcase, then made to climb off to rest on his side, huddled into Sean's side.

“Michael's one of the good ones.” Sean shuffled his head around to look at Eric, giving off a sad smile. “For some reason, he _loves_ Brian Kinney—he has, unconditionally, since they were 14.” Their eyes connected on the idea—or even fathoming twenty- _something_ years of loving someone. “The one thing I promised Dustin was to either get out of the way in the course of true love or...become useful in the next step toward a happy ending.” He sighed and turned to look up at the ceiling, letting out a ghost of a smirk. “He could've meant my own, but at the time Kinney's offer fell into my lap.” Sean shrugged his shoulders, unable to look at Eric even though he felt him melt into his frame, drawing that left leg up his body again— _jesus christ_. “I thought I could carry on Dustin and Franco's legacy. I think I owe it to them to see this through 'til _some_ type of end.”

Eric curled his arm under his head, snuggling closer to Sean as if to seek warmth, though his own body was heated. He reached across to stroke over Sean's upper chest, hooking his hand around the space under the right armpit; he pat the tight skin on taut muscle. “Then I'll be patient, 'cuz you're worth it— _we're_ worth it.” He corrected that last portion, pressing his lips into the rounded corner of Sean's left shoulder.

Sean brought one arm down to then reach up to latch both of his hands over Eric's forearm. He smiled in thankfulness as he rose to his elbows on a slow flip and leaned down to cup the back of Eric's head, bringing him in for another scorching, heart-stopping kiss. He bent his own leg, fitting quite perfectly between Eric's own thighs, eventual tangling their limbs as he rested his body in the circle of Eric's arms.

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian stepped through his office's front double doors and was immediately bombarded by Cynthia and a round of rapid apologies. It didn't take his eyes long to travel about the room to see no one at their desks as they were all gathered inside, and pouring out of, _his_ main office. Brian was trying to dodge Cynthia, but she kept blocking his path.

“Did you forget to fill my morning schedule with _this_ —whatever _this_ is?” Brian used the index finger of his free hand to shape around the air to incorporate everything before him.

“No. I got a call late last night.” Cynthia was trying to prevent Brian from walking in further, so she could let him know what was going on, what had been happening the last few hours. “Brian, you are _not_ going to believe what just fell right into our laps.”

Eyebrows lifting high on his forehead, Brian could see something peculiar was going on at Kinnetic, without his doing, and his knowing. “From the looks of it, the second coming of Jesus.”

“ha-ha. Funny.” At some point, Cynthia could no longer keep Brian at bay, until he started bumping into his own employees, who didn't realize he was strolling into work at about this hour—the hour he normally dropped in. Now she simply trailed behind Brian's steps, attempting to walk alongside him, still chattering away. “Close, but 'no'. I can't imagine how you and I almost let this goldmine slip through our fingers.”

Brian put down his laptop bag and briefcase because he really saw no way to get into his office without parting the crowds of people like Moses and the Red Sea. He started unwinding his scarf and unbuttoning his coat slowly, allowing some time wasted so he could get himself situated to barge in on whatever was about to go on inside his office. “Well...are you gonna tell me _why_ my office has turned into a Rolling Stones' concert? Or do I just stand here and guess for an hour?”

“ ** _No!_** no...it'd best be explained with visuals and you seeing for yourself what's inside your office.”

Brian swore Cynthia's face looked too much like a little girl's at Christmas. As he neared the far door, closest to the boardroom table, his employees moved back and slipped out of his way. Some were even brave enough to say “good morning” to Brian. They looked entirely too god-damn happy, like they could see dollar bills falling down from the heavens. He crossed the threshold and was instantly struck by the extra-large poster-sized photographs of men layered on his walls and around the spacious room. Freestanding on the floor were mannequins—some broken and missing limbs, cracked and covered in smudges of dirt or black marker. The further he wandered in, Brian saw the wide range of clothing littered over the larger boardroom table-top. People started to murmur and bump elbows, letting the entire room know that “El Jefe” was finally here.

As the news worked its way through the grapevine, Eric, who was leaning against Brian's desk at the opposite end of the room, bent to speak to the man who had his back turned to Brian.

Brian discovered Eric's whereabouts after attempting to figure out who was at fault for this huge organized mess, but he only had to wait a few minutes. The man who everyone was crowding around—who had been speaking to, and touching, Eric—spun around to walk to the head chair of the boardroom table. A couple of people shushed as the voices simmered to a semblance of silence.

“What...is going on here, Lyle?” Brian had to brace himself when he felt and saw Cynthia race behind him and head on up toward where the conglomerated group of his main staff and Sean and Eric stood near his desk.

Sean smirked down at Brian, holding onto the upper shape of the plush leather chair. “An opportunity of a lifetime, Kinney.”

“Is there a reason why you felt the need to take over my entire office with your— _display_?” Brian wasn't going to admit he quite liked what he could see so far; he wished he had come up with this kind of shock and awe brilliance. It was definitely causing a stir with his employees—gay and straight, male and female.

“Please. _Sit_.” Sean pulled out Brian's rolling chair, patting the soft, high-backed leather. “We've been waiting for you to get here so the presentation might get under-way.”

Brian remained where he stood. “I'm fine right where I am— _thank you_.” He was a little miffed at finding Sean taking some power, and control, away from him, but he didn't want to be rude when everyone had already shown a preference for whatever Sean and Eric had brought Kinnetic.

“Excellent.” Sean spun the chair toward Cynthia or Ted. “How 'bout it, guys?”

Ted was the proper gentleman and waved Cynthia over. Cynthia took Brian's usual seat at the table a little too enthusiastically, but she gave some folks in the room a few chuckles.

“Great. Now that I have everybody's attention, let me ask all of you one question...”

Eric was amazed by how well Sean commanded the room's total concentration. They had spent all day yesterday working on this presentation at his house, and Eric was still a bit murky on what this campaign actually meant for his clothing line. As he watched Sean stuff his hands inside his slack's pockets, wandering down the halfway point of the boardroom table, he felt that he had placed his company in the right hands—strong, capable and beautiful hands of an even more beautiful man.

As Sean scanned the faces around the room slowly, he made sure he had everyone's rapt attention. “— ** _are you ready to play_**?!” It only took one button on the remote in Sean's pocket to set the TV screens off, with the pulsating music and the sharp cuts in the video editing he had done last night into early morning.

Eric had no idea that this was what Sean would be doing with all that stock footage he had been collecting. Every one of the cutting room floor re-shoots that never made it to print. He couldn't believe Sean could see a single solitary vision for _Vaughn Athletic Academy_...just from wearing a simple pair of briefs and taking a few pictures with him the other night. Eric had been a little ashamed of the blown-up photos of him and Sean, being depicted as a “couple”, or two very, very close male best friends. At least Sean had kept his promise and never once showed Eric's face.

From his perch on the glass desk, Eric tried to gauge Brian's reaction, but the guy was stoic and watchful. Eric regretted not asking Michael to make a small show of support so he could help read Brian's facial expressions and body language. But for some reason, with Sean being involved, Eric knew that what he had was going to take him places he never were possible to go.

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian's office was cleared out nearly two hours later. He asked Eric and Sean to leave everything with him because the Art Department would need to rework some details on designs, plus the Media Group seemed to be itching to get their hands on the trashed mannequins and all the pieces of clothing that had been brought. More than anything, murmurs around the office began to stir about wanting to know who the two men were in every photograph; Sean wasn't shy about admitting he was in some, but he refused to leak his male modeling partner.

Brian was slowly perusing the pictures he liked, wanting to know the photographer; Sean and Eric would stay mum on that answer until they could see what Kinnetic would offer them. While Brian was extremely impressed with the marketing manager they'd gotten to put together this impromptu presentation on such short notice, he loved a challenge. He genuinely wanted _Vaughn Athletic Academy_ even more than any other client they'd signed over the last three months. This business was everything he loved about his job, and it was exactly what his company had been wishing to get into. Instead of importing businesses to come to the Pitts, they wanted more local, up-and-coming businesses who could “go big” with Kinnetic's help.

Cynthia wandered into Brian's office, laying a few papers on his desk. “I just need you to read over these contracts, Brian. I'll get them typed up by this afternoon.”

Still mesmerized into silence, Brian turned from the pictures to stroll around his room. “The other guy—with Sean—is Eric.”

“Huh?”

Brian pointed toward the back wall. “Those are pictures of Eric Vaughn.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I don't know. I just do.”

“You need to hire, Lyle.”

“I thought I already did. You know how _that_ went.”

“No. You need to hire that boy for Kinnetic.”

“On what basis?”

“Talk to Eric.”

“Eric hates my guts.”

“He must not hate you too much, if he's willing to come to you with his entire business.”

“That was Lyle's doing. He's the one who thought of me first.”

Cynthia chuckled lightly, shaking her head. It was weird to still learn that sometimes men and women weren't _that_ different—well, maybe it was _gay_ men and _straight_ women being interchangeable. “Cute. So..Sean's, like, this 'buffer' between you and Vaughn.”

“Excuse me?” Brian swore he heard Cynthia say “fluffer”. Boy, his mind must be in the gutter or... _something_.

“oh, _please_...” Cynthia could almost detect the way Brian's mind bent the wrong way. “—get your filthy mind out of the gutter, Kinney. What I mean is...it looks as if Sean will be brokering Eric's deals, giving him sage advice on his company's endeavors.”

“How the hell did he sneak this one behind me?”

“What?”

“I don't know. It's rather random how Sean actually met with Eric.”

“Could've been through Michael. I don't mean to say the gay circle of friends is small, but...well, you already know with your bedroom antics. According to you, one doesn't have to throw a stone too far to hit another gay man in Pittsburgh.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “I guess, but—”

“But— _what_ , Brian?”

“It feels a little too _convenient_.”

“Oh, because you hired Sean to sleep with your best friend, then Eric and Michael happen to know of one another?”

“I never thought Michael would consider anonymous sex as a way of life. It makes me wonder if Michael knows about these two.”

“Jesus...don't tell me you actually wanna be a white knight to Michael's damsel-in-distress.”

“Please, it's a bit too comfy-cozy for me to take in.”

“And there's no possibility that they're all simply friends because of a freak-ass coincidence?”

“Nothing around here is ever ' _just a coincidence_ '.”

“Why don’t you call Michael and— _oh, I don't know_... ** _ask_** him?”

“No.”

“But, Brian, since you're already on rocky footing with Eric, and probably Sean—”

“ ** _Christ almighty! I said 'no'!_** End of story.”

“ ** _Fine! Grinch!_** ”

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian was walking out of his executive washroom when he noticed a peculiar, yet familiar dark-haired pixie face peeking at him from around his desk. If Jenny Rebecca was here that meant so was her father. For a moment, he was stunned, not prepared to see either Novotny, but what was disarming most about father and daughter was that no matter how mad or frustrated he was with one of them, a single look from their soulful brown eyes and he was a puddle of forgiveness. Brian had done nothing to cause Jenny to like him better or favor his presence over any adult, she generally gravitated toward him, wherever he happened to be and wore him down.

She slid her little body along the side of the desk, hopeful that Brian would know to open that candy jar she could see above her head. Brian passed her by to retake his chair and spun to the seat to face her; it was like they were in the middle of a staring showdown. Jenny knew she couldn't walk into his office and take candy; she had to earn the right to have a piece. So she stared down at the floor, making sure she wouldn't trip over long legs and big feet, then edged herself along a bent leg to meet Brian's side. She took an assessment of him: how he was dressed, how he acted and looked at the typical disarray that was on the surface of his desk.

Finally, it was back to looking up at Brian, and her tiny hand came out to set against his mid-thigh. Brian did his part and sat upright, bending slightly toward Jenny so she could reach his cheek. She leaned forward to place her lips on the rough stubble; she didn't know how to work a kiss, so it was only a steady pressure and then she pulled away.

That had bought her _one_ piece of candy.

It was after that moment when Michael showed his face, when he found Brian in the midst of playing “tickle monster” with a writhing and giggly Jenny. He was grateful Brian never held grudges against Jenny, even though he and Brian might be on the outs.

Jenny was sprawled over Brian's lap, content in have earned her butterscotch drop.

Brian was spinning Jenny to-n-fro in his chair. “No fair, Novotny.” He grumbled under breath at Michael.

Michael had suspected Brian knew the trick he had up his sleeve. “You won't take my calls and, if Cynthia tells me one more time ' _he's busy—in a meeting_ ', I'm actually going to assume you're trying to _intentionally_ avoid me.”

“Washing my hair was too obvious a dodge tactic.”

“Brian...” Michael sighed as he stepped to the front of the desk. He saw Brian settle Jenny on a hip, in his arms comfortably, then went to stand out of his chair, walking around the side-shape of the desk extension. He watched Brian take a seat on the corner edge, hooking one hip so he could rest Jenny down on the raised thigh. Michael was envious of the way his daughter could quietly lean on Brian, then rest her head on his shoulder, his huge hand soothing over her back. Now, it seemed, Brian was using Jenny as a protective shield to keep Michael at a distance. “—are you _ever_ gonna want to see me again?”

Brian knew he played his cards wrong by disappearing, but it was taking much more strength than Michael could imagine to face him and admit—he was confused, nervous and unsure of what the next step would be between them. “You still dating that... _Hudson_ -guy?”

“I see him— _yes_. Sometimes. Not _every_ night.”

Brian glanced down at the floor, his arm a little tighter around Jenny. She had soft hair like her father; it tickled his skin as she moved closer to him. “Is it serious?”

Michael opened his mouth to say “yes”, to keep up the pretense that a close bond of intimacy was building with another man, but he stopped. He stopped because he realized that Brian's imagination was playing the role of slow torturer to his sanity. And Michael giving Brian his space wasn't sending the right type of solace. He grabbed for Brian's hand, compacting the shape between both his palms. “I miss you. And even more than usual.” He neared Brian's side—the side where Jenny wasn't. “I can't get you out of my mind. What we did. How it made me feel. How, I know, it made us _both_ feel.” Michael tugged Brian's arm to his body. “You can run as far, and as long, as you want, but, eventually...I'll find you—catch up to you.” He brought up his right hand to lay the palm against Brian's face. He could sense Brian leaning toward the appendage as he blinked slowly.

“... _i don't know what to do_...”

Michael could barely hear the words said, but he let them settle in his head. He thought he heard something strange in Brian's tone. “What?”

Brian brought up his left hand to take Michael's fingers away from his face, then held onto them. “I thought if something like this happened with us, I'd know exactly what to do. I could look at you, or sense what you wanted from me, and then act accordingly.” He shook his head, staring down at Jenny's sweet face—so like Michael's. “You have me perplexed and bewildered, Michael. I don't want to leave, but yet...I'm not sure I should stay, either.”

It was then that Michael knew he had to tell Brian the truth, and it had to be tonight. “And I'm not helping the confusion, am I?”

Brian turned his head to look at Michael, to _really_ concentrate on his face, look deeper into his eyes. “I can’t blame this on you. And I won't. It's my screwed-up sense of timing, and this... _desire_ I need to be right, to be in control. One step out of alignment, and I'm paralyzed.”

“ _jesus..._ ” Michael had no idea his actions, or his non-actions, would be this debilitating to Brian. He immediately went in for a one-armed hug; his left hand clamped over Brian's on Jenny's back. “I'm sorry.” He kissed the jaw and cheek. “I didn't know. I'm so sorry.” Michael buried his face into Brian's neck and shoulder, ashamed of how far he'd taken this foolishness. What for? So Brian could feel the same rejection he had been feeling for years? Somehow it didn't seem equal or fair.

Brian felt his heart race, his breathing constrict because he never knew what true contentment would feel like, to actually feel peace and quiet on the horizon. Having Michael in one arm, Jenny in the other, he knew exactly where he wanted to be.

Michael reluctantly pulled away, trying to remove his hands, finding he had to shove them down, safe in his pockets. “What time are you leaving work today?” He didn't move far from Brian's side, a few inches down along the desk ledge.

Brian could have held Michael a lot longer. He didn't care that his office door was wide open. “Late. We've been hired by quite a few new clients in the past two weeks. I like to stick around and show the minions my support of all their hard work.”

“C'mon, Jen...” Michael easily slipped Jenny out of Brian's arm into his own. “We'll get out of your hair, so you can finish what you were in the middle of.” As usual, Brian had too much open on his desktop to seem like he was working on _one_ thing.

“Call me. I promise I'll answer _this_ time.”

“I don't have Jenny tonight. I took her for a few hours, off of Mel's hands. I'll be taking her back soon, once Mel rings me.” Michael tilted his head, noticing the shadows under Brian's eyes for the first time. “I can meet you at the loft—after 5 or 6—whichever. We won't plan anything; we'll see how we both feel. How's that sound?”

Brian yawned behind his hand. “—oh, my...sorry”

“I won't take that as an answer. We can even make it just a quiet, simple night of hanging out.”

“Michael...”

“I know-I know. We crossed **_the_** line, and we need to address it. But I promise you, we'll do that...soon.”

“All right.”

“Okay?”

“Yes.” Brian shut his eyes as Michael bussed his cheek quickly. He shaped a hand over Jenny's curls, from the back, and kissed her brow, then waved _bye-bye_ as father and daughter exited his office.

Michael was gone, but Brian still vibrated with Michael's nearness and easy presence— _like always_. It would take a few more hours to shake off this sensation.

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

Brian was nearly on his way out when he heard the familiar beep of his cell phone. As he finished up writing a few notes and jotting down his signature, he closed the last manila file, placing it on top of the stack he'd been building to go back to Cynthia. He sighed, picking up his Blackberry to glance over the text and voice messages he'd missed over the last hour or so. There was only one he was interested in; a text from Michael stating that he was already at the loft. Also that he had hoped Brian didn't mind if he had dinner covered.

Brian thought about texting in return, but when he compared the times, Michael had tried to reach him a hour-an-a-half ago. It would be moot to reply to such an old comment. He decided he would simply leave sooner than he had planned; he didn't want to keep Michael waiting.

Donning his suit jacket and snatching his laptop bag and briefcase, Brian grabbed the thick stack of files to throw on Cynthia’s In-box on his way out. When he reached her sectioned cubicle, he noticed she wasn't sitting behind the desktop, but sitting on it and gabbing away with a few of the other office secretaries. They all quieted down when Brian neared their semi-circle.

It was funny how half the staff still had an innate fear of him, like he really did stomp on souls and breathe hot fire— _a big ole meanie-head_. No matter how many times Cynthia talked them down or defended him, they still held doubts. Probably didn't help that Brian kept using Cynthia as a mediator with some employees and never really joined in the company parties. He never minded paying for them;he just didn't feel like attending.

“Late night, ladies?” _Whoops_ —too late...there was one male sitting obscured by his fellow co-workers. Oh, well...Brian was used to being the butt of watercooler gossip.

Cynthia glanced around as everyone looked down or averted their gazes. “oh, jesus...we're just tryin' to decide if we wanna hit the after-work drinking party or have some dinner and then go out to a bar or club.”

One of the younger secretaries—a newbie—felt brave enough. “What about you, Mr. Kinney?”

Cynthia was a little shocked and pleased, while others seemed embarrassed or outraged.

Brian could tell this was a secretarial taboo, but he appreciated the courage to break out of the pack. “Well—Kaley, is it?” At her nod, and smile, he went on, “...I am heading home. Probably staying 'in' for the night.” He looked around to see if anybody had any identifying body language changes. “Cynthia...Kaley...ladies—an' gentleman...have a very good evening.” Brian gave them a brief wave and took off. He didn't bother to stick around for their random farewells; some calling him “Boss” and others “Mr. Kinney”, and only one saying “Brian”.

Just because he was somewhat curious, and he didn't often find himself an opportunity—like now—to listen in on exactly how he was perceived by his employees, Brian decided to stick around. Cynthia had been shielding him from much of it, but for the most part, he really didn't care. But for some odd reason, he paused at the doors about to step outside. He knew where he was, nobody would see him from this angle.

 ******

 **_“Honey, I do-_ ** _not_ **_know how you keep working for that man.”_ **

**_“Amen!”_ **

**_“Brian really isn't_ _that bad. I wish you all would believe me and not think I'm brain-washed.”_ **

**_“Oh, Cynthia—honey...that's not what I mean in the slightest.”_ **

**_“Then...what do you mean?”_ **

**_“Well, I don't know about everyone else, but I've noticed a 'change'.”_ **

**_“A—what?”_ **

**_“I've seen it to.”_ **

**_“yes-yes...he's less abrasive, almost subdued.”_ **

**_“He does seem—humbled...to me.”_ **

**_“You guys, you know I told you I won't talk about Brian like this with you. I don't with anyone.”_ **

**_“Tha's fine. We know you've been aware of it too.”_ **

**_“Probably more so since you're with him nearly all day/every day.”_ **

**_“Why does he appear so—?”_ **

**_“Sad?”_ **

**_“Exactly! It's like he's mending a broken heart.”_ **

**_“What happened? He never looked this twisted when that young man left for New York.”_ **

**_“Sheesh. You people already know too much.”_ **

**_“Look, Cyn...we're not gossiping. We're actually a little concerned.”_ **

**_“Yeah...an' we know tha's not normal for us—for anyone who works here—to feel this way about Mr. Kinney.”_ **

**_“It's almost made him less—”_ **

**_“—contentious...”_ **

**_“...an' more...”_ **

**_“—attractive?”_ **

**_“eh...approachable. I held a door for him the other day. It was just so I wouldn't be alone with him in the room, and he couldn't look me in the face. You'd've thought he was shy or had particular feelings for me. Instead, he walked out with a mutter and a sudden 'thank you'...”_ **

**_“He actually said 'good morning' to me, mid-week. I stared at him so long, stammering out a response in kind, but he threw me in a tailspin. He hasn't talked to me, face to face, since my hiring interview.”_ **

**_**_ **

Brian could hear Cynthia's heavy sigh of exasperation.

 ******

 **_“All right! All! Right! I get it. But if some of you are aware already, I never give specifics. Brian's personal life is sometimes privy to only me, and that won't ever change. What I can tell is that none of you are off the mark. Things are happening fast and furious at Kinnetic, which has put major stressors in Brian's path. He's got those covered, though, because he's got us on his side. Outside of this office is another matter, but he's doing his best not to let it interfere or ruin Kinnetic's chances of going corporate. Trust me, he'd never put your jobs—or this company—in jeopardy. We're safe, no matter how shitty the economy appears on the markets.”_ **

******

There was utter silence, which had Brian quaking a bit his shoes.

 ******

 **_“One more question, then we'll leave it alone.”_ **

**_“What now?”_ **

**_“When those two gorgeous men brought us Vaughn Athletic Academy...were you like us employees, trying to imagine Brian Kinney wearing all those skimpy, tight-fitting clothes?”_ **

**_“Yeah!”_ **

**_“We wanna know, Cyn!”_ **

**_“C'mon...don't be shy!”_ **

******

Brian had heard enough, and he attempted to creep out of the building without them knowing he had still been around. He reached the Stingray; as his keys fit into the driver side door lock, he noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. Not nerves, but just from knowing that he'd let Michael's choices and actions rule over his own emotions, and how he had carried himself through the day.

They were right. This was very un-Kinney of him. He didn't mind too much about the talk of how he'd look, or how his body would look in, or out, of the clothes. Brian was more worried he could become as transparent as any lovesick fool.

 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~**

The minute Brian climbed off the elevator, he could feel a burn of excitement building, just by knowing once he entered the loft he'd have Michael all to himself—alone and for the entire night, if he wanted. He heard the soft sounds of music wafting underneath the lip of the door. Most likely, it was unlocked and Brian only had to slide the metal panel open.

As he did, he made a beeline for the small office area to drop his briefcase and laptop bag, turned to take off his outer coat, then push the metal door closed. He hung his coat up, heard Michael's laugh and began to smirk, but was instantly startled to hear a deep voice respond to Michael's laughing.

“Michael! That does _not_ look anything like this picture!”

“I don't care. It still _tastes_ good. I'm not a real professional chef.”

“—but you are half-Italian. You have no excuse for failing so badly at cooking.”

“ ** _SEAN!_** ” Michael proceeded to throw a dish towel at his male companion as he turned to notice Brian standing at the edge of the kitchen floor tile. “Hey...at least you being late was helpful in me able to prove I am as good as cook as I had thought.” He saw that Brian was staring, not moving at all. “What's wrong?”

“ _What the_ ** _fuck_** _is going on?!_ ”

 **~~ &&~~&&~~... tbc...~~&&~~&&~~**


End file.
